HIBRARY0/ 


ARTIE 


THE  TWO-SPOT 


ARTIE 

A  Story  of  the  Streets  and  Town 


GEORGE  ADE 

Author  of  "  Fables  in  Slang,"  "  Doc'  Home," 
"Pink  Marsh,"  etc. 

PICTURES  BY 
JOHN  T.  McCUTCHEON 


NEW  YORK 
GROSSET  &  DUNLAP 


COPYRIGHT,     1896,    BY 
HERBERT  S.  STONE  k  CO. 


ARTIE 

i 

One  day  Mrs.  Morton,  wife  of  the  city 
manager,  came  to  the  offices  and  in  polite 
brigandage  compelled  each  man  in  the  room 
to  pay  fifty  cents  for  a  ticket  to  the  charity 
entertainment.  This  entertainment  was  to 
be  given  at  a  South  Side  church  on  the  fol 
lowing  Wednesday  evening.  Artie  bought 
a  ticket  with  apparent  willingness. 

"  I  do  n't  want  you  young  men  to  think 
that  I  'm  robbing  you  of  this  money,"  said 
Mrs.  Morton.  "  I  want  you  to  come  to 
the  entertainment.  You  '11  enjoy  it, really." 

"  Blanchard  can  go  all  right,"  suggested 
Miller,  with  a  wink  at  young  Mr.  Hall. 
41  He  lives  within  a  few  blocks  of  your 
church." 


ARTIE 

"Then  he  must  come,"  said  Mrs. 
Morton  decisively.  "  Won't  you,  Mr. 
Blanchard  ? " 

"  Sure,"  replied  Artie,  blushing  deeply. 

"Why,  Mrs.  Morton,  he  has  n't  been 
in  a  church  for  three  years,"  said  Miller. 

"  I  do  n't  believe  it,"  and  she  turned  to 
Artie,  who  was  shaking  his  fist  at  Miller. 
"  Now,  Mr.  Blanchard,  I  want  you  to 
promise  me  faithfully  that  you  '11  come." 

"  I  '11  be  there  all  right,"  said  he, 
smiling  feebly. 

"  Remember,  you  've  promised,"  and  as 
she  went  out  she  shook  her  finger  at  him 
as  a  final  reminder. 

"  Well,  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Miller. 

Artie  put  on  his  lofty  manner  and  gazed 
at  his  office  companions  with  seeming  cold 
ness. 

"  What 's  it  to  you  whether  I  do  or 
not  ?  Did  n't  you  hear  what  I  said  to  her  ? 
Sure  I  'm  goin'.  I  've  got  as  much  right 
to  go  out  and  do  the  heavy  as  any  o'  you 


ARTIE 

pin-heads.  If  I  like  their  show  I  '11  help 
'em  out  next  time  —  get  a  couple  o'  handy 
boys  and  put  on  a  six-round  go  for  a  finish. 
Them  people  never  saw  anything  good." 

"I'll  bet  you  don't  go,"  spoke  up 
young  Mr.  Hall. 

Artie  laughed  dryly.  "  You  guys  must 
think  I  'm  a  quitter,  to  be  scared  out  by 
any  little  old  church  show,"  said  he. 

That  was  the  last  said  of  the  charity 
entertainment  until  Thursday  morning, 
when  Artie,  after  dusting  off  his  desk, 
strolled  .up  to  Miller  and  gave  him  a 
friendly  blow,  known  to  ringside  patrons 
as  a  "  kidney-punch." 

«  Ouch  !  "  exclaimed  Miller. 
«  Well,  I  goes,"  said  Artie. 
"  Where  ? "  asked  Miller,  who  had  for 
gotten. 

,       «  Where  ?     Well,  that 's  a  good  thing. 

To  the  church  show  — the  charity  graft. 

I  did  n't  do  a  thing  but  push  my  face   in 

there  about  eight  o'clock  last  night,  and  I 

3 


ARTIE 

was  *  it'  from  the  start.  Say,  I  like  that 
church,  and  if  they  '11  put  in  a  punchin'- 
bag  and  a  plunge  they  can  have  my  game, 
I  '11  tell  you  those." 

"  Did  you  see  Mrs.  Morton  ?  " 
"  How 's  that,  boy  ?  Did  I  see  her  ? 
Say,  she  treated  me  out  o'  sight.  She 
meets  me  at  the  door,  puts  out  the  glad 
hand  and  says:  <  Hang  up  your  lid  and 
come  into  the  game.'  " 

"  I  never  heard  her  talk  like  that,"  sug 
gested  Miller. 

"  Well,  that 's  what  she  meant.  She  's 
all  right,  too,  and  the  only  wonder  to  me 
is  how  she  ever  happened  to  tie  herself  up 
to  that  slob.  It 's  like  hitchin'  up  a  four- 
time  winner  'longside  of  a  pelter.  He 
ain't  in  her  class,  not  for  a  minute  or  a 
part  of  a  minute.  What  kills  me  off  is 
how  all  these  dubs  make  their  star  win- 
nin's.  W'y,  out  there  last  night  I  see  the 
measliest  lot  o'  jays  — regular  Charley- 
boys —  floatin'  around  with  queens.  I 
4 


ARTIE 

wish  somebody  'd  tell  me  how  they  cop 
'em  out.  Do  n't  it  kill  you  dead  to  see  a 
swell  girl  —  you  know,  a  regular  peach  — 
holdin'  on  to  some  freak  with  side  whiskers 
and  thinkin'  she 's  got  a  good  thing  ? 
That 's  right.  She  thinks  he  's  all  right. 
Anyway,  she  acts  the  part.  And  say, 
you  know  Percival,  that  works  over 
in  the  bank  —  little  Percy,  the  perfect 
lady.  There  's  a  guy  I  've  known  for 
five  years,  and  so  help  me,  if  he  gets 
on  a  street-car  where  I  am,  I  get  off  and 
walk.  That  ain't  no  lie.  I  pass  him  up.  I 
say,  c  You  're  all  right,  Percy,  and  you  can 
take  the  car  to  yourself,'  and  then  I  duck." 

"  Was  he  there  ? " 

"  The  whole  thing  !  That  ain't  no  kid. 
He  was  the  real  papa — the  hit  o'  the  piece. 
One  on  each  arm,  see  ?  —  and  puttin'  up 
the  large,  juicy  con  talk.  They  was 
beauts  too;  you  couldn't  beat  'em,  not 
in  a  thousand  years.  There  they  was, 
holdin'  to  this  wart.  Up  goes  my  hands 
5 


ARTIE 

in  the  air,  and  I  says  to  myself :  l  Percy, 
you  're  all  right.  I  would  n't  live  on  the 
same  street  with  you,  but  you  're  all  right 
at  that,'  But  he  could  n't  see  me." 

"  Could  n't  see  you  ? " 

41  No,  he  lost  his  eyesight.  He  looked 
at  me,  but  he  was  too  busy  to  see  me. 
No,  he  had  on  his  saucy  coat  and  that 
touch-me-not  necktie,  and  oh,  he  was 
busy.  He  was  n't  doin'  a  thing.  I  think 
I  '11  give  the  bank  a  line  on  Percy.  Any 
man  that  wears  that  kind  of  a  necktie 
had  n't  ought  to  handle  money.  But  you 
ought  to  seen  the  two  he  had.  I'd  like  to 
know  how  he  does  it.  I  had  a  notion  to 
go  up  to  one  o'  the  girls  and  say:  'What's 
the  matter  ?  Ain't  you  ever  seen  any 
others  ? ' " 

"  Did  you  like  the  show  ? "  asked  Miller. 

"  It 's  this  way.     They  liked  it,  and  so  " 

—  with  a  wave  of  the  hand  —  "let  'em 

have  it.     If  they  put  the  same  turns  on  at 

any  variety  house  the  people  'd  tear  down 

6 


ARTIE 

the  buildin',  tryin'  to  get  their  coin  back. 
Mrs.  Morton  got  me  a  good  seat  and  then 
backcapped  the  show  a  little  before  it 
opened  up,  so  I  did  n't  expect  to  be  pulled 
out  o'  my  chair  —  and  I  wasn't.  If  I'd 
been  near  the  door  I  'd  'a'  sneaked  early 
\n  the  game,  but,  like  a  farmer,  I  let  her 
put  me  way  up  in  front.  I  saw  I  was  up 
against  it,  so  I  lasted  the  best  way  I  could. 
Two  or  three  o'  the  songs  was  purty  fair, 
but  the  woman  that  trifled  with  the  piano 
for  about  a  half  an  hour  was  very  much  on 
the  bummy  bum.  Then  there  was  a  guy 
called  an  entertainer,  that  told  some  o'  the 
gags  I  used  to  hear  when  my  brother 
took  me  to  the  old  Academy  and  held  me 
on  his  lap.  But  he  got  'em  goin',  just  the 
same.  'Well,'  I  says  to  myself,  '  what  'd 
a  couple  o'  hot  knockabouts  do  to  this 
push  ? '  On  the  dead,  I  do  n't  believe  any 
o'  them  people  out  there  ever  saw  a  good 
show.  It  just  goes  to  prove  that  there 's 
lots  of  people  with  stuff  that  think  they 
7 


ARTIE 

know  what 's  goin'  on  in  town,  but  they 
do  n't.  I  ain't  got  no  kick  comin',  only  it 
was  a  yellow  show,  and  I  'm  waitin'  for 
forty-five  cents  change." 

"  I  should  think  you  would  have  got 
the  worth  of  your  money  simply  by  seeing 
so  many  good-looking  girls,"  said  Miller. 

"  The  girls  are  all  right,  only  I  think 
they  're  a  little  slow  on  pickin'  the  right 
kind.  If  I  had  time  I  'd  go  over  to  that 
church  and  make  a  lot  o'  them  Reubs  look 
like  thirty-cent  pieces.  Not  that  I'm 
strong  on  the  con  talk,  but  I  know  I  'd  be 
in  it  with  them  fellows.  I  think  it  must 
be  a  case  of  nerve.  That 's  all  there  is 
to  'em — is  nerve.  But  the  girls  — 
wow  ! " 

"Beauties,  eh?" 

"  Lollypaloozers ! " 


THE  CAUTIOUS  BOY 


II 

"It's  hard  goin'this  morning," remarked 
Artie,  as  he  performed  the  difficult  feat  of 
removing  his  rubbers  without  touching  his 
hands  to  them,  "  and  I  ain  't  much  of  a 
mud-horse."  He  telescoped  his  cuffs  and 
put  them  on  a  hook,  yawned  lazily  and 
said  :  "  I  've  got  a  peach  of  a  head." 

"  Were  you  out  ?  "  asked  Miller. 

"  Naw,  I  was  settin'  in  an  easy  game  o* 
poker.  None  of  us  stood  to  win  car  fare, 
but  I  went  in,  thinkin'  I  might  get  'em 
loosened  up  and  pull  out  the  price  of  a 
Christmas  present  for  the  girl." 

"  Did  you  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  nit.     I  think  I  '11 

have  to  duck  on  that  present  or  else  go  out 

with  a  stockin'  full  o'  sand.     You  never 

see  such  a  sure-thing  crowd  in  your  life." 

9 


ARTIE 

"  Where  were  you  playing  ?  " 

"  Over  at  Kennedy's  room.  He  got 
me  to  come  over  and  had  a  couple  of  his 
friends  there.  Oh,  but  they  was  hot  mem 
bers!  One  of  'em  whenever  he  got  bet 
ter  'n  jacks  up,  always  lost  his  voice  and 
could  n't  keep  count  o'  the  chips.  Then 
he  'd  stop  the  game  every  three  minutes  to 
see  how  he  stood  with  himself.  He  'd 
stack  up,  you  know,  an'  feel  in  his  pockets 
and  then  he  'd  say  :  1 1  'm  forty-seven  cents 
loser.'  He  was  the  best  I  ever  see." 

"  Were  you  playing  for  money  ?  "  asked 
young  Mr.  Hall. 

"  Playin'  for now,  would  n't  that 

upper-cut  you  ?  Sure.  You  did  n't  think 
this  was  a  game  o'  muggins,  like  you 
boys  play  up  at  your  little  old  cycle  club? 
This  was  the  real  old  army  game.  I 
guess  I  saw  as  much  as  two  bones  change 
hands." 

"  How  did  you  come  out  ? "  asked 
Miller. 

10 


ARTIE 

"  Wait  and  I  '11  tell  you.  We  kind  o' 
petered  along  there  for  two  or  three  hours 
or  so,  makin'  two  call  five  and  as  high 
as  fifteen  cents  to  see,  everybody  keepin' 
books  and  beefin'  about  the  way  the  hands 
was  runnin'  and  showin'  up  the  cards  when 
nobody  come  in,  and  tellin'  what  they 
might  a'  done  if  they  'd  done  purty  well, 
an'  so  on  —  real  gambler  talk  —  till  I  says 
to  myself, 1 1  '11  try  it,  an'  if  it  do  n't  go, 
it 's  a  baby  risk.'  I  gets  a  pair  of  type 
writers  and  stays  in.  All  of  'em  playin', 
see  ?  Kennedy  leads  off.  I  think  he  tossed 
in  seven  white  chips;  anyway,  he  was 
strong.  Then  this  boy  that  was  keepin'  tab 
on  his  stack  all  the  time,  he  had  to  think  it 
all  over  and  have  another  talk  with  himself 
and  skin  his  cards  three  or  four  times,  and 
then  he  put  in.  Up  to  me  —  see  ?  I 
kind  o'  gives  the  gentle  push  to  half  a 
samoleon  and  says  :  c  Comrades,  it  '11  cost 
you  fifty  c.  apiece  to  linger  in  my  society.' 
Say,  you  never  see  people  so  busy.  Ken 


ARTIE 

nedy  has  a  long  talk  with  himself  and 
counts  his  stuff,  and  then  he  says  to  this 
safe  player  at  the  right  o'  me :  l  Are  you 
goin'  to  call  him?'  c  Nix,'  I  says.  '  This 
ain  't  tennis;  this  is  poker.'  Kennedy 
looked  a  few  spots  off  his  hand,  and  then 
he  says:  'Well,  I  'm  out,'  just  as  if  he 
said :  '  Well,  I  lose  eight  thousand  on 
wheat  to-day.' " 

"  Did  the  other  fellow  stay  ?  "  asked 
Miller. 

"  Stay  nothin' !  He  had  the  heart  failure 
when  he  see  that  half.  I  pulled  in  the 
dough  and  picked  up  the  cards.  '  What 
did  you  have  ? '  says  Kennedy.  c  Oh,' 
I  says,  c  I  did  n't  have  nothin'  but  five 
nines.'  c  No,'  he  says,  c  on  the  square, 
what  did  you  have  ? '  I  told  him  it  was 
against  the  rules  for  me  to  say,  but  it  was 
a  cinch  I  had  him  done.  c  Well,'  he 
says,  <  I  had  three  kings.'  That  ain't  no 
kid,  neither.  The  geezer  was  settin'  there 
lookin'  into  three  kings  all  the  time." 

19 


ARTIE 

"  Why,  he  had  you  beat,  did  n't  he  ?  " 
exclaimed  young  Mr.  Hall. 

"  Not  in  a  thousand  years.  Did  n  't  I 
tell  you  I  got  the  stuff — quite  a  bundle 
o'  money,  too.  I  think  there  was  thirty- 
six  cents.  Talk  about  your  Monte  Carlo 
boys  !  Them  guys  last  night  was  the  gam 
iest  I  ever  set  down  with." 

"  Well,  now,  did  n't  you  have  to  tell 
him  what  you  had  ?  "  inquired  young  Mr. 
Hall. 

"  Not  accordin'  to  the  league  rules  for 
this  year.  Did  I  have  to  tell  ?  You  're 
all  right,  boy." 

"How  did  you  come  out?"  persisted 
Miller. 

"W'y,  what  chance  did  I  have  to  get  into 
'em  ?  Talk  about  safe  playin' !  They're 
like  the  stock-yards  man  that  wanted  to 
fight  Sullivan.  4 1  '11  fight  him,'  he  says, 
'  if  you  blindfold  Sullivan  and  gi'  me  an 
ax.'  That  was  the  way  with  them  dubs. 
They  liked  the  color  o'  my  money,  but 
i3 


ARTIE 

they  would  n't  take  no  risk.  After  that 
first  saucy  crack  with  the  half  I  laid  low 
three  or  four  hands,  and  then  I  knocked 
'em  a  horrible  twister.  It  was  a  jack  pot, 
and  this  cautious  boy  at  the  right  o'  me 
opened  it.  I  stay,  see  ?  Why  should  n't 
I,  when  I  had  two,  four,  six,  seven  and 
nine,  in  three  different  colors,  all  in  my 
mit  ?  I  stands  pat  on  the  draw,  and  then 
the  first  crack  out  o'  the  box  I  whoops  it 
a  half —  fifty  kopecks.  What  does  he  do  ? 
He  could  n't  drop  his  hand  too  quick.  An 
other  case  o'  licked  in  a  punch.  He  shows 
jacks  up  for  openers  and  then  starts  to  pick 
up  my  hand,  but  I  stood  him  off.  I  says  : 
'  Nay,  nay,  Pauline,  there  's  some  things 
so  good  that  it  costs  money  to  see  'em.' 
I  told  him  that  when  he  wanted  to  get  wise 
to  what  was  in  my  hand  all  he  had  to  do 
was  to  dig  up  his  bit  and  come  in.  'Well,' 
he  says,  c  I  don't  want  to  lose  my  stuff.' 
On  the  level,  no  kiddin',  that 's  what  he 
said  —  that  he  did  n't  want  to  lose  his 
14 


ARTIE 

stuff.  I  told  him  he  was  in  the  wrong 
kind  of  a  game  —  that  he  ought  to  be 
playin',  l  Heavy,  heavy,  hangs  over  your 
head.'" 

"  You  have  n't  told  us  yet  how  you 
came  out,"  said  young  Mr.  Hall. 

"  Well,  I  kept  on  layin'  low,  and  then 
every  fourth  hand  or  so  comin'  in  with  a 
half-dollar  and  takin*  the  pot.  Finally, 
after  I  'd  sprung  it  on  'em  about  a  dozen 
times  and  was  gettin'  quite  a  stack  in  front 
o'  me,  I  stood  pat  on  a  hand  and  tried  'em 
again.  '  Hold  on,'  says  this  cautious  boy, 
shakin'  all  over,  4  hold  on,  don't  take  that ! ' 
I  told  him  I  would  n't  take  it  till  it  come 
time.  Then  him  and  Kennedy  had  a  long 
spiel  to  themselves.  Kennedy  was  out,  of 
course,  not  bein'  able  to  show  up  better  'n 
threes.  He  advised  the  boy  to  see  me. 
Both  of  'em  looked  at  the  hand  and  sized 
me  up,  and  finally  this  boy  that  was  holdin' 
the  hand  said  he  'd  go  halves  with  Kennedy 
and  make  me  spread  what  I  had.  They 


ARTIE 

had  some  more  of  the  talk  and  at  last  they 
put  in  a  quartei  apiece.  '  I  ain't  got  a 
thing  but  a  flush,'  I  says,  and  I  lays  down 
four  hearts  and  a  diamond." 

"  That  was  n't  a ,"  began  young 

Mr.  Hall. 

"  Sh ! "  said  Miller. 

"  You  ought  'o  heard  the  roar,"  resumed 
Artie,  giving  young  Mr.  Hall  a  reproving 
glance.  "  Kennedy  hollered  the  worst  of 
all.  c  That  ain't  no  flush,'  he  says.  c  Of 
course  it  is,'  I  come  back  ;  '  ain't  they  all 
one  color  ? '  With  that  they  both  begin 
talkin'  at  once,  showin'  me  how  it  was  a 
flush  had  to  be  all  hearts  or  all  diamonds 
and  thai  sort  o'  business.  I  waited  till 
they  got  through,  and  then  I  said  I  was 
dead  sore  about  not  bein'  next  to  the 
point.  I  says  to  'em :  1 1  been  playin' 
them  hands  for  flushes  all  night.'  The  old 
gag,  see  ?  They  never  tumbled,  though. 
You  never  heard  such  kickin'.  Them 
guys  thought  I  'd  been  playin'  red  and 
16 


ARTIE 

black  hands  all  the  time.  This  cautious 
boy  figured  he  could  'a'  won  four  bucks 
if  he  'd  called  me  every  time  I  stood  pat. 
Say,  you  'd  died  if  you  'd  heard  him." 

"  Well,  who  won  the  pot  ? "  asked 
Miller. 

"  I  think  you  're  about  as  bright  on  the 
game  as  they  was.  W'y,  that  chump  had 
a  full  house,  nines  on  somethin'.  Soon 
as  he  took  the  half  I  said  I  'd  stop  — 
would  n't  play  no  more  till  I  learned  to 
read  the  hands.  We  all  cashed  in,  and 
what  do  you  think  ?  I  was  seventy-three 
cents  to  the  good.  There  I  set  like  a  big 
stiff  for  five  hours  and  pulled  against  them 
marks  for  severity-three  cents.  Kennedy 
lose  fifty-four  cents,  an'  I  '11  make  a  guess 
right  now  he  ain't  through  kickin'  yet." 


Ill 

While  they  were  at  lunch  a  square  en 
velope  of  a  delicate  pink  color  was  placed 
on  Artie's  table. 

It  was  addressed  in  very  blue  ink  to 
"  Mr.  Arthur  Blanchard,  Esq." 

Furthermore,  the  stamp  was  placed  up 
side  down  on  the  upper  left-hand  corner  of 
the  envelope.  According  to  the  code  of 
the  "  stamp  flirtation"  this  means  either, 
"  Write  soon"  or  "  I  am  longing  to  see 
you.'* 

When  the  recipient  is  certain  as  to  the 
feelings  of  the  one  who  has  written,  he  or 
she  may  take  this  unusual  position  of  the 
stamp  to  mean  even  more  than  is  written 
in  the  code. 

There  may  be  some  ignorant  persons 
who  do  not  know  that  when  a  lady  passes 
18 


\ 


AMIE 


ARTIE 

a  handkerchief  across  her  face  this  is  a 
signal  to  the  gentleman  friend,  standing  in 
front  of  the  cigar  store,  that  she  must 
speak  with  him  soon. 

Again,  when   a   gentleman   carries  fc 
umbrella  grasped  by   the  middle  with  the 
handle  pointing  backward  he  is  making  a 
declaration  of  love  to  all   women   whom 
he  encounters.       He  may  be  utterly  un 
conscious  of  the  fact,  but  any  one  who  ^ 
understands    the    leading    signals    of    the 
"umbrella  flirtation"   will  know  what  is 
meant  when  a  gentleman  deliberately  holds 
his  umbrella  in  that  position. 

Furthermore,  if  he  carried  his  umbrella 
handle  forward  and  inclined  at  forty-five 
degrees  it  would  mean  "We  must  part." 

A  study  of  that  interesting  yellow 
volume  wherein  are  set  down  all  the 
secrets  of  flirtation  by  means  of  an, 
handkerchief,  glove,  umbrella,  walking- 
stick,  postage  stamp,  book,  etc.,  etc.,  will 
show  that  a  deep  significance  attaches  tc 
19 


ARTIE 

the  most  ordinary  procedures.  Even  the 
hoisting  of  an  umbrella  or  the  mopping  of 
a  damp  brow  may  be  construed  as  an  ex 
pression  of  hatred,  or  the  very  reverse. 

If  a  young  man  is  too  bashful  or  too  dip 
lomatic  to  make  a  frank  declaration  of  love 
all  he  has  to  do  is  to  "  crumple  the  dance 
programme  in  his  left  hand,"  and  the 
young  woman  who  has  studied  the  yellow 
volume  will  know  that  he  means  "  I  can 
not  live  without  you."  (See  "  programme 
flirtations.") 

Artie  no  sooner  saw  the  envelope  than 
he  smiled  broadly.  He  knew  the  meaning 
of  the  upside-down  stamp,  but  Miller  did 
not. 

"Oh,  well,  I  guess  I  ain't  strong  on  the 
North  Side,"  said  Artie,  as  he  held  the 
envelope  up  to  the  light.  "  She  writes  a 
swell  letter,  don 't  she  ?  You  might  think, 
to  size  it  up,  it  come  from  the  Lake  Shore 
Drive.  She 's  a  little  queer  on  the  speliin', 
but  her  heart 's  in  the  right  place." 


ARTIE 

"  Is  that  from  one  of  your  lady  friends? " 
asked  young  Mr.  Hall,  with  a  side  wink 
at  Miller.  Since  Hall  had  been  attend 
ing  the  whist  parties  he  had  shown  a 
disposition  to  be  quietly  scornful  of  Ar 
tie's  social  connections. 

"  Never  you  mind,"  replied  Artie.  "This 
ain  't  for  boys." 

He  opened  the  letter  and  read  it  care 
fully,  occasionally  remarking  :  "  I  ain't  a 
bit  strong  here." 

"  Are  we  going  to  hear  it?"  asked  Mil 
ler,  who  was  biting  his  pencil  with  curi 
osity. 

"  Not  in  a  thousand.  What  do  you 
take  me  for  ?  This  letter 's  for  me  and 
I  'm  the  only  boy  that  gets  'em,  too,  I  '11 
tell  you  those." 

"  That 's  what  she  says,  I  suppose." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  I  come  purt'  near  knowin' 
how  strong  I  am  with  her.  There  ain  't 
nobody  else  one-two-seven.  They  ain  't 
even  in  the  c  also  rans.' " 


ARTIE 

"  Well,  you  must  be  solid." 

"  Solid  ?  W'y,  I  'm  one  o'  the  family. 
You  could  n't  queer  me  with  that  girl. 
I  've  made  the  play  at  the  old  folks,  on 
the  square.  The  old  man  's  dead  with 
me.  I  went  to  see  her  one  night  and  she 
was  out,  so  I  had  to  set  there  for  about  an 
hour  and  pipe  him  the  best  I  could.  Le  'me 
tell  you." 

Then  Artie  had  to  stop  and  laugh. 

"  I  never  put  you  next  to  how  I  come  to 
meet  her,  did  I  ?  Say,  there  was  the  fun 
niest  thing  ever.  It  must  'a'  been  three 
months  ago,  a  fellow  holds  me  up  for  the 
price  of  a  ticket  to  a  dance  up  on  North 
Clark  street.  I  did  n't  expect  to  break  in, 
but  when  the  night  come  there  was  nothin* 
else  in  sight  so  I  hot-foots  up  to  the 
dance.  It  was  a  sucker  play,  too,  because  I 
might  'a'  known  it  'd  be  a  case  of  takin'  the 
horse  cars  to  get  back  to  the  West  Side. 
I  had  some  new  togs,  a  new  pair  o'  patent 
leathers  and — well,  I  don't  like  to  star 

23 


ARTIE 

myself,  but  I  guess  I  was  about  as  good 
as  the  best.  And  this  crowd  up  there  was 
purty-y-y  punk;  very  much  on  the  hano- 
me-down  order." 

"  It  was  n 't  a  full  dress  affair,  then  ?  " 
asked  Miller,  laughing. 

"  Oh  me,  oh  my!  Full  dress?  W'y,  if  a 
guy  'd  floated  in  there  with  one  o'  them 
Clarence  outfits  they'd  'a'  hung  him  across 
a  chandelier.  Some  o'  them  was  dead 
tough  and  the  others  was  hams.  It  was 
frosty,  too.  I  could  n  't  see  any  folks  I 
knew,  so  I  stood  around  there  on  one  foot 
kind  o'  rubber-neckin'  to  find  an  openin*. 
Finally  I  see  Mamie  over  in  one  corner." 

"  So  that 's  her  name,  is  it  —  Mamie  ?" 

"  I  guess  you  got  past  my  guard  that 
time.  Yes,  that 's  her  name,  Mamie.  As 
soon  as  I  see  her — everything  else  off.  It 
was  a  sure  enough  case  of  l  only  one  girl.' 
'  In  a  minute,'  I  says,  and  I  swore  I  'd 
get  next  no  matter  what  kind  of  a  brash 
play  I  had  to  make.  Say,  she 's  a  dream. 
33 


ARTIE 

That's  right.  If  she  had  the  clothes  she'd 
make  the  best  of  'em  look  foolish." 

"I  believe  you 're  stuck  on   her,"  ven< 
tured  Miller. 

"  Mebbe  that  ain't  no  lie  neither.  She  M 
make  anybody  daffy.  As  I  was  sayin'. 
she  was  settin'  over  in  the  corner,  and  I 
could  see  that  a  Johnny-on-the-spot,  with 
a  big  badge,  marked  c  Committee,'  was 
tryin'  to  keep  cases  on  her.  He  waltzed 
with  her  once  or  twice,  but  most  o'  the 
time  he  had  to  be  out  on  the  floor  yellin' 
4  Two  more  couples  wanted,'  and  all  that 
business.  He  was  makin'  himself  the 
whole  thing.  Well,  I  got  friendly  with  a 
guy  that  was  standin'  around,  the  same 
as  myself,  tryin'  to  break  in,  an' 
I  says  to  him :  c  I  want  you  to  do 
me  a  favor.  Take  me  over  and  gi' 
me  a  knock-down  to  the  queen  in  the  cor 
ner.'  He  said  he  didn  't  know  her.  c  What's 
the  diff  ? '  I  says.  c  Ain  't  you  got  your 
nerve  with  you  ? '  Well,  he  was  all  right. 
24 


ARTIE 

He  took  me  over  and  says  :  '  Miss  Lum- 
yum  and-so-and-so,'  fakin'  it  as  he  went, 
'  I  want  you  to  shake  hands  with  my 
friend.  Mr.  Ta-ra-m-m~m,'  and  then  he 
ducked." 

"What  was  it  he  called  you?" 
"  He  did  n't  call  me  nothin'.  He  just 
made  a  bluff.  She  says  to  me,  *  I  did  n't 
ketch  the  name.'  *  Livingstone,'  I  says, 
4  Herbert  Livingstone.  I  'm  on  the  board 
o'  trade.'  That  board  o'  trade  business 
has  been  done  to  death,  but  I  guess  it  went 
with  her.  I  asked  her  for  her  name  and 
she  give  it  to  me — straight.  4  How  about 
the  next  dance  ? '  I  says.  She  said  it  was 
all  right  if  Mr.  Wilson  did  n  't  come 
around  and  claim  it.  I  asked  her  if  the 
boy  with  the  badge  owned  her  and  she 
laughed.  I  see  that  he  did  n  't  have  no 
cinch  on  it,  so  I  just  started  in.  I  put 
up  the  tall  talk,  jollied  her  along,  danced 
with  her  three  times — well,  of  course, 
you  could  n't  blame  her.  I  sprung  them 
25 


ARTIE 

West  Side  manners  o'  mine  on  her  and 
I  had  her  won.  Finally  his  rabs  with 
the  banner  on  his  coat  conies  around  and 
begins  to  roast  her.  Sore  ?  You  never 
see  a  man  so  sore." 

"  Why  did  n  *t  you  stop  him  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  did  n't  stop  him,  did  I  ?  Mebbe 
I  let  him  go  right  ahead  and  have  his  own 
way.  You  ought  o'  seen  me.  I  put  up 
a  bluff  that  'd  curl  your  hair.  I  went  up 
to  him  and  I  breathed  it  right  in  his  ear. 
I  leaned  against  him.  4  Look  here,'  I  says, 
*  you  screw  right  away  from  here.  We 
do  n't  like  your  style.  If  you  open  your 
face  to  this  lady  again  to-night  I  '11  separate 
you  from  your  breath.'  Did  he  go  ?  Well, 
I  should  say  yes.  He  did  n 't  want  none  o' 
my  game." 

"Did  n't  she  get  mad?"  asked  young 
Mr.  Hall,  who  had  become  intensely  in 
terested. 

"  What,  after  he  'd  weakened  that  way? 
His  name  was  pants,  then  and  there.  I 
26 


ARTIE 

says  to  her:  l  That  fellow 's  got  a  horrible 
rind  to  think  he  can  set  on  the  same  side 
o'  the  room  with  you.'  Then  she  said 
she  did  n't  know  what  she  'd  do,  because 
he'd  brought  her  there  and  her  pa-pah 
would  be  crazy  if  she  went  runnin'  around 
the  street  by  her  lonelies.  You  see,  I 
was  n't  doin'  all  the  stringin'.  She  kept 
playin'  that  'pa-pah'  gag  on  me.  Pa-pah 
wanted  her  to  take  music  lessons,  and  pa- 
pah  was  very  particular  who  she  went  out 
with,  and  ma-mah  was  worried  whenever 
she  stayed  out  after  twelve.  I  did  n't  want 
to  call  her  down,  but  I  could  tell  from  the 
dress  and  the  talk  and  all  that  that  she'd 
never  had  any  diamonds  to  throw  at  the 
birds.  But  then  I  was  spinnin'  pipe  dreams 
myself,  tellin'  about  how  much  I  lose  on 
the  board  and  all  that." 

Miller  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
roared.  Artie  waited  for  him  to  subside. 

"  I  took  her  home,  but  not  all  the  way. 
She  stopped  on  the  corner  and  said  that 
27 


ARTIE 

was  far  enough.  I  sized  it  up  that  the 
house  was  on  the  bum  and  she  did  n't 
want  me  to  see  it.  I  had  her  name  and  I 
told  her  I  wanted  to  write  to  her.  She 
said,  '  Mebbe,'  and  then  she  flew." 

"  Did  n't  you  kiss  her  good-night  ?  " 
asked  young  Mr.  Hall,  roguishly. 

"  Well,  the ,"  and  what  Artie  then 

and  there  said  under  an  extreme  stress  of 
indignation  need  not  be  repeated.  "  Say, 
do  you  know  who  I  'm  talkin'  about  ? 
Do  n't  you  make  none  o'  them  funny  plays 
at  me.  I  'm  tellin'  you  that  this  is  the 
first  time  I  met  her.  I  do  n't  know  how 
they  act  in  your  set,  but  this  girl  — well, 
you  Ve  got  to  know  her  awhile." 

"  I  was  just  joking,"  said  young  Mr. 
Hall. 

"  All  right,  drop  it.  As  I  was  sayin', 
I  told  her  I  'd  write  to  her,  but  I  did  n't. 
Well,  one  day  on  Dearborn  street,  who 
does  I  meet  but  the  girl,  comin'  out  of  a 
buildin'  where  all  them  printin'  offices  are. 
28 


ARTIE 

*  Hello,  there,  little  one,'  I  says.  lDo 
you  work  up  here  ? '  That  kind  o'  stag 
gered  her.  So  she  weakened  and  said  she 
did.  She  ain't  a  very  good  liar.  I  walked 
down  to  the  corner  with  her  and  give  her 
a  little  song  about  thinkin'  all  the  more  of 
her  since  I  'd  learned  she  was  a  workin' 
girl.  She  was  so  square  I  could  n  't  string 
her  no  more,  so  I  told  her  who  I  was  and 
fixed  it  up  to  take  her  to  a  show.  Well, 
when  I  went  out  to  the  house  it  was  a 
purty  small  place  in  behind  a  grocery  store. 
Pa-pah  had  on  a  woolen  shirt  and  was 
smokin'  a  pipe.  You  could  see  that 
Mamie  was  the  main  screw  o'  the  house 
and  run  things  to  suit  herself.  The  old 
man 's  a  hard-workin'  old  boy,  and  I  think 
I'm  strong  with  him.  The  old  lady's  a 
little  leary  of  me,  but  I  can  win  her  all 
right." 

"Is  Mamie  the  one  that  you've  been 
calling  4  the  girl '  all  the  time  ? "  asked 
Miller. 

29 


ARTIE 

"  She 's  the  only  one  that  got  a  Christ 
mas  present  from  me.  And  say,"  he  con 
tinued,  lowering  his  voice  so  that  young 
Mr.  Hall  could  not  hear,  "if  I  ever 
rent  a  flat  she 's  the  party  that  picks  out 
the  furniture.  That  ain't  no  josh,  nei 
ther." 


rHE  POOL  SHARK 


IV 

Both  Artie  and  Miller  had  been  kept 
at  the  office  unusually  late  because  of 
the  extra  work  that  comes  at  the  end  of 
the  month.  It  was  nine  o'clock  when 
they  left.  Miller  took  Artie  by  the  arm 
and  led  him  toward  a  billiard  hall,  where 
they  frequently  had  fifteen-ball  pool  con 
tests. 

Artie  was  the  better  player  and  usually 
had  to  "  spot  "  three. 

The  corner  table  was  not  in  use.  With 
the  remark  that  he  would  proceed  to  play 
pool  as  "  old  folks "  played  it,  Artie  re 
moved  his  coat,  pushed  his  linen  cuffs  into 
one  of  the  sleeves,  lighted  a  fat  cigar  and 
began  a  critical  inspection  of  the  cues  in 
the  rack.  Having  selected  a  cue  he  care 
fully  deposited  his  cigar  at  one  edge  of  the 


ARTIE 

table  and  "  busted  "  the  fifteen  balls  with  a 
fierce  stroke. 

When  the  balls  stopped  rolling  they 
were  scattered  all  over  the  table,  but  not 
one  of  them  had  gone  into  a  pocket. 

"A  dead  rank  Jonah,"  muttered  Artie, 
as  he  backed  away  from  the  table  and  took 
a  firm  bite  at  his  cigar. 

When  he  became  deeply  interested  in  a 
game  of  pool,  and  particularly  when  he 
was  behind  in  the  count,  he  dropped  his 
usual  talkative  mood  and  became  silently 
earnest  and  watchful. 

Miller  appeared  to  have  caught  a  win 
ning  stroke,  and,  although  Artie  was  ex 
pected  to  "  spot "  three,  Miller  had  four 
balls  before  Artie  made  one.  Then  Artie 
became  actually  serious,  pulling  his  cigar 
still  deeper  into  his  mouth  and  studying 
the  situation  carefully  before  undertaking 
a  shot. 

He  did  not  observe  the  young  man  who 
had  drifted  over  from  another  table  to 
32 


ARTIE 

watch  the  game  until  this  young  man 
said,  in  comment  on  one  of  Artie's  fail 
ures  :  "  That 's  where  you  ought  to  have 
made  a  bank." 

Artie  glanced  at  him  sharply.  The 
young  man  had  a  dark  mustache,  pointed 
at  the  ends.  His  garments  bespoke  a 
sporty  cheapness  and  he  was  smoking  a 
cigarette. 

Artie  looked  at  Miller  and  said :  "  I 
wish  I  knew  where  I  could  get  some 
brainy  guy  to  gi'  me  lessons  on  this  game." 

The  young  man  smoking  the  cigarette 
pretended  hot  to  hear  this  remark.  He 
leaned  against  one  of  the  posts  and  idly 
watched  Miller  prepare  to  make  an  impos 
sible  shot. 

Strange  to  say,  Miller  made  the  impos 
sible  shot,  although  the  ball  did  not  go 
into  the  pocket  for  which  he  had  vaguely 
intended  it.  Miller  bore  up  calmly,  as  if 
he  were  not  surprised. 

"  Oh,  sister,"  moaned  Artie,  "  I  got  no 
33 


ARTIE 

show  for  my  life  with  a  man  that  plays 
like  that.  Just  shut  your  eyes  every  time 
and  you  've  got  a  cinch." 

"  That  was  a  lucky  play,"  observed  the 
stranger. 

"  Oh,  I  do  n't  know,"  said  Artie, 
regarding  the  stranger  with  a  sidewise 
glance.  "  I  do  n't  know." 

Miller  shot  again  and  went  out. 

"  Now,  let  's  make  it  a  three-handed 
game,"  said  the  stranger,  coming  forward. 

Artie  stopped  short,  slowly  rubbed  his 
chin  and  looked  at  the  intruder.  "  You 
won  't  think  I  *m  too  fly  if  I  ask  you  a 
question,  will  you  ? " 

"  Why,  no." 

"  Well,  where  did  you  get  your  chips  to 
come  in  here  ?  I  ain't  seen  no  one 
haulin'  at  you  to  get  you  in.  Your 
clothes  ain't  tore,  as  I  can  see." 

"  Now,  there 's  no  need  of  makin'  a 
roar,"  said  the  stranger,  with  a  conciliating 
smile. 

34 


ARTIE 

"  Ain  't  there  ?  You  're  just  tryin'  to 
break  into  the  game,  that's  all.  I  s'pose 
you  're  lookin'  for  cigarette  money." 

"  Oh,  well,  if  you  're  goin'  to  act  that 
way  I  do  n't  care  whether  I  play  with  you 
or  not.  I  just  thought  — 

"  Drop  it !  Do  n't  try  to  con  me  with 
no  such  talk.  I  'm  on  to  you  bigger  'n  a 
house.  I  know  about  you  and  the  whole 
push  o*  ringers.  Me  and  my  friend  here 
play  a  gentleman's  game,  understand  ?  I 
might  stand  some  show  against  you,  only 
I  do  n't  take  my  meals  off  of  a  pool  table. 
I  ain't  no  shark  that  hangs  around  these 
places  all  day  lookin'  for  somethin'  easy, 
and  I  'm  just  foolish  enough  to  think  that 
I  'm  too  good  to  play  pool  with  a  skin  like 
you." 

"  Oh,  you  make  me  tired,"  said  the 
intruder,  who  had  walked  away  a  few 
paces  and  then  returned,  as  he  evidently  did 
not  wish  to  retreat  while  he  was  under  fire. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  "  demanded  Artie,  who  still 
35 


ARTIE 

had  his  cigar  in  his  mouth.  "  W'y,  say, 
I  '11  make  book  right  here  that  you  're 
livin'  off  o'  your  mother  or  sister  and 
payin'  no  board.  I  know  you  kind  o' 
geezers  like  a  book.  I  do  n't  come  in 
here  to  give  coin  to  no  such  stiffs  as  you. 
No — no — not  if  I  'm  on  to  my  job." 

"  I  guess  you  've  said  about  enough," 
remarked  the  young  man  with  the  mus 
tache.  His  cigarette  trembled  between 
his  stained  fingers. 

"  Mebbe  —  but  I  'm  in  purty  good  voice 
yet,  if  any  one  should  ask.  [  just  want 
to  put  you  next  to  one  thing.  When  any 
o'  you  blokies  try  to  push  into  a  game 
where  I  am  and  get  me  to  put  up  any 
dough  against  your  shark  combinations  — 
w'y,  you  're  on  a  dead  one.  I  may  be  a 
farmer,  but  it  takes  better  people  than  you 
to  sling  the  bull  con  into  me." 

The    stranger   turned   half-way  around 
and   said  :    "  I  do  n't  care  to  quarrel  with 
you  in  here.     I  '11  see  you  later." 
36 


ARTIE 

Then  he  started  to  walk  away. 

"  Mebbe  you  will,"  said  Artie,  "but 
you  won't  be  lookin'  for  me,  you  big 
stiff." 

And  with  that  he  began  digging  his  cuffs 
out  of  his  coat-sleeve. 

41  How  was  it  ? >:  he  asked,  grinning  at 
Miller. 

"I  thought  he  was  going  to  fight." 

"Not  that  boy.  He  was  four-flushin' , 
I  know  the  brand." 


It  was  not  a  strange  thing,  after  all  — 
the  growing  friendship  between  Miller  and 
Artie. 

There  is  a  common  theory,  and  a  theory 
at  best,  that  "birds  of  a  feather  flock 
together,"  and  this  may  mean  that  the 
human  being  selects  for  his  companions 
the  people  who  are  much  like  himself  in 
tastes,  habits  and  aspirations. 

Nevertheless,  a  South  Side  man,  who 
has  written  a  large  book  intended  to  be  a 
guide  to  happiness  and  sold  by  subscription 
only,  claims  that  a  tall  man  should  marry 
a  short  woman,  a  blonde  should  select  a 
brunette,  the  quiet  man  should  choose  for 
his  partner  a  vivacious  woman  and  the 
intellectual  giant  should  give  the  prefer 
ence  to  a  housekeeper  or  a  cook. 
38 


ONE  O     THEM  RAH-RAH  BOYS 


ARTIE 

He  points  out  the  obvious  disadvantages 
that  would  result  were  an  artist  to  be  tied 
up  with  an  art  critic,  and  depicts  the  misery 
obtaining  in  that  household  every  member 
of  which  wishes  to  do  all  the  talking. 

Miller  and  Artie  got  along  famously  to 
gether.  Miller  was  the  listener  and  Artie 
was  the  entertainer.  Miller  read  books 
and  Artie  read  the  town. 

Miller  secretly  believed  that  Artie  was 
a  superficial  young  man,  but  he  had  to  ad 
mire  his  candor  and  his  worldly  cleverness. 
Artie  liked  Miller  because  he  was  a  font  of 
sympathy  and  accepted  a  confidence  in  a 
serious  way. 

Miller  knew  only  one  kind  of  people, 
and  these  were  the  three-button-cutaway, 
standing-collar,  derby-hat  people  of  his  own 
reputable  station  in  life. 

Artie  had  acquaintances  in  every  layer 
of  society. 

Artie's  casual  reflections  on  matters 
about  town  were  so  many  revelations  to 
39 


ARTIE 

Miller,  whose  ignorance,  considering  that 
he  belonged  to  a  club  and  had  a  library 
of  his  own,  was  appalling.  Artie's  ordi 
nary  experiences  were  thrilling  adventures 
and  Artie's  love  affairs  and  the  briskness 
with  which  they  were  conducted,  amazed 
and  interested  him. 

Miller   had    always    lacked    the  reso 
lution  to  have  any  love  affairs  of  his  own. 

At  the  close  of  an  unusually  dull  day  in 
the  office  Miller  and  Artie  went  to  a  "  new 
place"  to  eat.  It  was  a  dull  week  when 
Artie  could  not  find  a  new  restaurant,  and 
he  was  especially  warm  in  his  praise  of 
this  latest  discovery,  because  it  offered 
a  complete  dinner  for  the  comparatively 
small  sum  of  fifty  cents. 

Artie  had  been  in  a  bad  humor  all  day 
and  had  taken  out  his  spite  on  young  Mr. 
Hall,  who  had  been  lolling  at  his  desk 
throughout  the  afternoon  and  writing  a 
long  letter  to  a  chum  who  was  attend 
ing  a  school  somewhere  in  the  east. 
40 


ARTIE 

"Who  is  he — one  o'  them  rah-rah 
boys  with  a  big  bunch  o*  hair?"  asked 
Artie  when  young  Mr.  Hall  first  spoke  of 
the  «  chum." 

"  He 's  an  awfully  nice  fellow,"  re 
sponded  young  Mr.  Hall,  stiffly.  He  had 
attended  the  academy  himself  and  he  did 
not  like  the  reference  to  "  rah-rah  boys." 

"  I  '11  bet  he  's  one  o'  them  saucy  guys 
that  wears  a  big  ribbon.  Say,  you  skipped 
a  couple  o*  pages  there." 

Young  Mr.  Hall,  after  filling  the  first 
page  of  his  letter,  had  begun  writing  on 
the  fourth  page.  He  paid  no  attention 
to  Artie's  sarcasm.  After  he  had  filled 
the  last  page  he  opened  the  sheet  and 
began  inside,  writing  crosswise  of  the 
paper. 

Artie,  who  had  been  watching  with  cold 
disgust,  said :  "  When  your  old  college 
chum  gets  that  letter  it  '11  keep  him  guess- 
in'  where  to  begin  on  it." 

Young    Mr.    Hall    smiled   rather  con 
4' 


ARTIE 

temptuously.  "  Did  n't  you  ever  see  a 
letter  written  this  way?"  he  asked. 

"  Certainly  not.  I  've  been  gettin'  let 
ters  right  along  from  the  nicest  people  on 
the  South  Side  and  they  always  begin  on 
'the  last  page  and  write  it  backwards.  On 
the  level,  I  'm  surprised  you  ain't  on  to 
that.  Anybody  that  'd  write  that  kind 
of  letter  could  n't  play  in  our  set." 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  stop  !  "  exclaimed 
young  Mr.  Hall.  "  You  're  getting  me  so 
rattled  I  can't  write." 

"W'y,  sure,  only  I  was  tryin'  to  put 
you  next  to  some  good  pointers.  I  do  n't 
like  to  see  a  nice  promisin'  boy  like  you 
queer  himself  in  sassiety  just  when  he  's  at 
the  post." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  society  ?  " 
demanded  young  Mr.  Hall. 

"  Why,  Harold,  old  chap,  I  know  all 
about  it  —  I  know  it  easy,  too.  Did  n't 
you  see  me  at  the  last  charity  ball  ? " 

"  I  'd  like  to  see  you  at  a  charity  ball," 
42 


ARTIE 

said  young  Mr.  Hall,  derisively.  He  was 
becoming  thoroughly  exasperated. 

"  Oh,  I  could  be  there,  I  guess,  if  I 
wanted  to.  It 's  a  case  o'  ten  bucks  and 
rentin'  one  o'  them  waiter  suits.  I  know 
boys  that  went  down  there  and  put  on  a 
dizzy  front,  and  next  day  they  had  to 
make  a  hot  touch  for  a  short  coin  so  as 
to  get  the  price  of  a  couple  o'  sinkers  and 
a  good  old  *  draw  one.'  " 

"  Well,  that  's  all  right :  let  me  finish 
my  letter." 

"Go  ahead,  old  fel,  I  never  said  a  word." 

But  he  kept  on  nagging  the  unhappy 
young  man  just  the  same,  and  Miller  won 
dered  at  it,  for  he  had  never  before  seen 
Artie  in  such  an  ugly  mood. 

Therefore,  when  they  had  reached  the 
restaurant  and  Artie  continued  to  be  glum 
and  unsociable,  Miller  asked  him  the  direct 
question  :  "  What 's  the  matter  with  you, 
anyway  ? " 

"  O,  nothin'  much.  On  the  hog,  that 's 
43 


ARTIE 

all.  Been  feelin'  rotten  all  day.  I  did  n't 
want  to  tell  you  at  the  office,  but  it 's  all 
off  with  me  and  the  girl." 

"Who?     Mamie?" 

"That 's  the  name,  all  right.  She  tossed 
me  in  the  air.  She  did  n't  do  a  thing.  I 
was  a  great  big  mark  to  ever  go  chasin' 
after  her  in  the  first  place.  On  the  square, 
Miller,  I  can't  get  wise  to  a  girl.  Too 
deep,  too  deep.  Just  when  you  think 
you  'vegot  everything  nailed  down  —  bing! 
and  it 's  all  off,  see  ?  " 

Miller  admitted  that  he  did  n't  exactly 
see.  "  Have  you  quarreled?"  he  asked. 

"  Here,  I  '11  give  you  the  whole  busi 
ness.  I  goes  out  there  last  night,  gets 
there  about  nine  o'clock,  and  who  does  I 
meet  comin'  out  o'  the  house  but  a  cheap 
gazabo  that  was  with  her  the  first  time  I 
see  her.  I  've  told  you,  ain't  I,  how  I 
snared  her  away  from  him  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  his  name  was  Wilson." 

"  Same  boy.  I  told  you  what  he  was  — 
44 


ARTIE 

a  horrible  Reub;  one  o*  them  fellows  that 
you  want  to  get  a  crack  at  the  minute  you 
see  him.  You  kind  o'  feel  there  's  a  crack 
comin'  to  him.  Mame  opens  the  door,  and 
I  goes  in  —  purty  chilly,  too.  'Who  's 
your  friend  ? '  I  says.  She  puts  on  as  good 
a  front  as  she  can  and  says,  l  That 's  Mr. 
Wilson  that  was  up  to  the  dance  that 
night.'  'Well,'  I  says,  c  he  must  be  a 
peach  to  come  around  here  after  the  way 
you  turned  him  down.'  She  tries  to  pass 
it  off,  and  says  so-and-so  and  so-and-so 
about  him  bein*  soft  and  writin'  notes  to 
her  all  the  time.  'Come  off,'  I  says;  lhe 
would  n't  be  writin'  notes  and  comin' 
'round  here  unless  he  had  some  pull.'  " 

"  I  do  n't  know  about  that,  Artie," 
suggested  Miller.  "  Just  because  a  fellow 
calls  on  a  girl  is  no  sign  that  she  likes 
him." 

u  Yes,  but  this  guy  's  an  Indian.  He 
won  't  do.  He  do  n't  belong.  It  made 
me  crazy  to  think  he  'd  been  cuttin'  in 
45 


ARTIE 

there.  Mame  tried  to  give  me  a  con  talk 
and  that  made  me  sore.  '  Look  here,'  I 
says, 1 1  play  no  understudy  to  a  low  card. 
Now,  if  you  're  stuck  on  him  I  '11  cash 
in  right  here  and  drop  out  o'  the  game.' 
She  said  she  was  n't  stuck  on  him,  but 
she  could  n't  tell  him  to  keep  away  from 
the  house.  l  If  I  ever  find  him  here  you 
won't  need  to  tell  him,'  I  says.  '  I  '11  dig 
into  him  and  tear  him  to  strips.'  Then 
she  says :  4  Just  because  I've  got  other  gen 
tlemen  friends  ain't  no  call  for  you  to 
walk  on  me.' " 

"  Did  she  say  that  ? " 

"That's  what  she  was  gettin'  at.  I 
says  :  '  Nay,  nay,  Pauline ;  your  own 
Willie's  got  to  be  the  whole  thing  or 
nothin'.  An'  I  told  her  if  I  was  beat  out 
I  wanted  to  be  done  up  by  somebody  be 
sides  a  counterfeit.  Then  she  cried  and 
said  she  'd  never  speak  to  me  again,  and  I 
says,  c  Well,  there  are  others,'  and  with 
that  I  goes  into  the  hallway,  takes  my  hat 
46 


ARTIE 

off  the  hook  and  ducks,  and  there  you  are. 
Everything  off." 

"  No,  not  necessarily.     It  seems  to  me 

that  you  quit  her,  instead  of  her  quitting 

,you.     Do  n't  you  think  you  can  fix  it  up  ? " 

"  Say,  it  might  be  squared,"  and  he 
spoke  rather  hopefully,  "  but  there 's 
only  one  way  to  fix  it  with  me.  That 
Indian 's  got  to  keep  clear  off  o'  that  street. 
You  can  make  book  on  that." 


VI 

Artie  and  Miller  had  gone  to  a  matinee 
on  Saturday  afternoon.  They  very  seldom 
did  this,  but  it  was  a  cold  and  cloudy  day, 
and  on  such  a  day  the  light  and  warmth 
of  the  play-house  seemed  very  attractive. 

After  the  third  act  they  had  walked  out 
to  the  front  of  the  house  and  were  stand 
ing  in  the  lobby,  when  Bancroft  Walters 
came  in  very  hurriedly  and  started  toward 
the  box  office. 

Bancroft  Walters  is  the  second  son  of 
LaGrange  Walters,  who  manufactures  a 
superior  kind  of  roofing  and  has  grown 
moderately  rich  at  it. 

Bancroft  plays  the  banjo,  appears  at 
amateur  entertainments,  goes  to  a  great 
many  parties,  and  probably  belongs  to  that 
48 


ARTIE 

Indefinite  class  known  as  "  society  young 
men."  He  has  a  desk  in  his  father's 
office,  but  it  cannot  be  said  truly  that  he 
is  held  down  to  office  hours  or  that  his 
salary  represents  the  value  of  his  actual 
service.  He  attended  an  eastern  college 
for  two  years,  and  then  came  home  for 
some  reason,  which  perhaps  only  his  fond 
and  trusting  mother  could  satisfactorily 
explain. 

She  knows  it  was  the  fault  of  the  col 
lege. 

Bancroft  is  inclined  to  be  dapper,  talka 
tive  and  wonderfully  full  of  self-assur 
ance.  Then  he  has  that  gift  of  not  dis 
covering  that  most  people  regard  him  as  a 
very  ordinary  sort  of  person. 

When  Bancroft  saw  Miller  and  Artie 
he  smiled  and  said,  "  Hello,  men." 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do,  Mr.  Walters  ?" 
replied  Miller. 

Artie  said  nothing. 

Bancroft  bought  his  seats  and  then 
49 


ARTIE 

walked  over  to  Artie  and  slapped  him  on 
the  back. 

"  Well,  Artie,  have  you  seen  any  good 
mills  lately?"  he  asked.  * 

Artie  shrugged  his  shoulders,  tightened 
his  lips  and  said  nothing. 

Even  then  young  Mr.  Walters  did  not 
know  that  trouble  was  breeding. 

"  I  haven 't  seen  you  for  a  long  time, 
Artie." 

"  I  seen  you  since  you  seen  me,"  re 
plied  Artie. 

"Is  that  so?" 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  to  tell  you  somethin', 
Banny.  You  're  nothin'  but  a  two-spot. 
You  're  the  smallest  thing  in  the  deck. 
Say,  I  see  barrel-house  boys  goin'  around 
for  hand-outs  that  was  more  on  the  level 
than  you  are.  Now,  I  '11  put  you  next  to 
one  thing ;  I  want  nothin'  to  do  with 
you,  because  I  'm  on.  I  know  you  — 
see?" 

"  What  do  you  know  ?  What  do  you 
50 


ARTIE 

mean  ? "     Bancroft  was  frowning  fiercely, 
but  he  was  also  very  red. 

"  Chee-e-ese  it !  You  know  what  I 
mean.  You  can't  do  nothin'  like  that  to 
me  and  then  come  around  afterwards  and 
joily  me.  Not  in  a  million !  I  '11  tell 
you,  you  're  a  two-spot,  and  if  you  come 
into  the  same  part  o'  town  with  me  I  '11 
change  your  face.  There  's  only  one  way 
to  get  back  at  you  people." 

u  I  guess  I  know  what  you  're  talking 
about  now,  but  I  do  n't  see  that  I  'm  called 
on  to  make  any  explanations,"  said  Wal 
ters,  who  was  recovering  his  voice. 

"  I  do  n't  want  no  explanations.  I 
pass  you  up.  All  I  say  is,  keep  away.  I 
want  to  mix  with  white  people.  I  'm  very 
foolish  about  that,  of  course,  but  it 's  a 
way  I  've  got.  You  're  a  nice  boy,  but 
your  work  is  very  coarse,  and  I  'm  givin' 
it  to  you  right  when  I  say  that  I  've  got  a 
license  at  this  minute  to  give  you  a  good 
swift  punch." 

Si 


ARTIE 

"  Hold  on,  Artie,"  exclaimed  Miller, 
seizing  his  friend  by  the  arm.  Miller  was 
pale.  He  interfered  at  the  right  moment, 
for  Artie 's  anger  was  up  and  his  fist  was 
in  readiness.  Walters  suddenly  turned  up 
his  collar  and  said,  in  a  voice  trembling 
with  rage :  "  I  'm  not  going  to  have  any 
trouble  in  this  kind  of  a  place." 

Then  he  turned  and  walked  away  with 
the  best  show  of  dignity  at  his  command, 
while  Miller  still  held  Artie  by  the  arm 
and  stared  at  him. 

For  once  he  believed  Artie  to  be  in  the 
wrong.  Bancroft  had  come  up  and  spoken 
pleasantly  enough,  and  in  return  Artie  had 
played  the  part  of  a  bully  seeking  a  pretext 
for  a  fight. 

"  What  made  you  act  that  way  ? "  he 
demanded. 

"  Do  you  know  that  boy  ? " 

«  Well,  I  've  met  him." 

"  Yes,  but  you  do  n't  half  know  him. 


ARTIE 

I  ought  o'  smashed  him  before  he  opened 
his  face." 

"  What 's  the  trouble  between  you  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  let  it  drop.  He  knows, 
though.  He  knows.  And  I  think  he  '11 
remember  two  or  three  things  I  told  him. 
Come  on  in  and  let 's  see  the  rest  of  the 
show." 

They  did  not  enjoy  the  last  act  of  the 
play. 

Artie  was  stiil  simmering  with  indigna 
tion,  and  he  was  also  worried  to  think  that 
Miller  had  been  offended.  As  for  Miller, 
he  could  only  wonder  that  Artie  had  shown 
such  a  fierce  disposition  to  fight  when 
there  was  no  apparent  provocation. 

As  they  were  leaving  the  theater  Artie 
said  :  "  I  think  I  '11  just  tell  you  why  I  've 
got  it  in  for  that  Charley  boy.  I  ain't 
stuck  on  tellin'  it,  for  it  made  me  look  like 
a  monkey." 

"  I    could  n't    imagine    what    was  the 


53 


ARTIE 

matter,"  said  Miller.  "  Walters  always 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  nice  sort  of  fellow 
—  that  is,  harmless." 

"  Harmless  ?  He  threw  the  boots  into 
me  the  worst  I  ever  got  'em.  Ooh  !  He 
made  me  feel  like  a  tramp.  Say,  Miller, 
if  I  was  to  beat  his  whole  face  off  I  could  n't 
ketch  even.  He  got  way  under  the  skin 
on  me.  Now,  this  is  on  the  q.  t.,  but  did 
you  ever  get  the  worst  of  it  in  such  a 
way  that  you  could  n't  come  back  at  the 
time,  and  yet  you  was  so  crazy  mad  that 
you  could  V  cried  ?  Well,  that  was 
me." 

"  I'm  surprised." 

"  Was  n't  I  ?  W'y,  I  went  to  school 
with  that  guy  out  on  the  South  Side  when 
my  old  man  had  a  job  in  the  foundry  and 
old  Walters  was  just  beginnin'  to  get  a 
little  dough.  The  family  did  n't  put  on 
no  such  lugs  in  them  days.  But  then, 
there 's  no  roar  comin'  on  that,  because 
the  old  man's  as  common  as  dirt,  and  this 
54 


ARTIE 

same  two-spot 's  got  a  sister  that  can  have 
my  seat  in  the  car  any  time  she  conies  in. 
I  ain't  one  o'  them  beefers  that 's  got  it 
in  for  people  just  because  they  've  got  the 
coin  and  make  a  front  with  it.  I  'm  out 
for  the  stuff  myself.  But  I  do  hate  to  sec 
any  of  'em  get  swelled  on  account  of  it." 

"  Well,  now,"  said  Miller,  "  it  never 
seemed  to  me  that  Walters  was  that 
kind." 

"  That 's  what  knocked  me  the  twister. 
I  thought  this  fellow  was  all  right.  I  've 
known  him  to  speak  to  ever  since  we 
learned  to  smoke  cigarettes  together  back 
o  the  car  barns.  Here  not  more  'n  six 
months  ago  he  comes  into  a  restaurant 
where  I  was  settin'.  He  was  with  a  lot 
o'  them  Prairie  avenue  boys,  and  purty 
soon  he  ducks  'em  and  comes  over  an* 
touches  me  for  two  cases.  Now,  you 
know  you  can't  go  up  and  bone  a  stranger 
for  stuff,  can  you  ?  He  knew  me  well 
enough  to  get  the  two." 


ARTIE 

"  Did  he  pay  it  back  ?  " 

"  Sure  he  did.  I  ain't  sayin'  that  he's 
crooked.  I  '11  tell  you  when  he  give  it 
back  to  me.  It  was  one  night  out  at  the 
boat  club  when  we  was  havin'  some  bouts 
there.  I  brought  over  a  handy  boy  from 
the  West  Side  to  put  him  against  a  little 
fellow  from  the  boxin'  school.  They  told 
me  over  west  the  boy  was  a  world- 
beater,  but,  gee  !  this  North-Sider  made  a 
choppin'  block  out  of  him.  What  I  was 
goin'  to  get  at  was  that  Banny  was 
there." 

"  Who's  Banny  ?  " 

"  That 's  his  name.  We  used  to  call 
him  that  when  he  was  a  kid.  Well,  he 
was  out  there  that  night  bettin'  all  kinds 
o*  talk,  and  you  'd  thought  I  was  his  long- 
lost  brother.  He  stood  around  the  corner 
where  I  was  handlin'  my  man,  and  it  was 
1  Artie  '  this  and  c  Artie '  that  all  the  time. 
He  loved  me  that  night.  Mebbe  that 's 
because  he  had  a  few  under  his  belt,  but 
56 


ARTIE 

anyway  it  went  with  me.  I  thought  the 
boy  was  all  right." 

Artie  paused  in  his  story  and  put  a 
large  cigar  into  his  mouth.  Miller  reached 
into  his  pocket  for  a  match,  but  Artie 
shook  his  head. 

"  This  is  how  I  found  the  streak  o' 
yellow  in  him,"  said  he.  "  One  afternoon 
the  boss  sent  me  out  to  Grand  Crossin'  to 
see  a  man.  I  stayed  for  supper  out  there 
and  was  comin'  in  on  the  train  along  to 
wards  eight  o'clock.  At  one  o'  them  sta 
tions  out  there,  here  comes  a  whole  crowd 
o'  people — a  lot  o'  swell  girls  and  their 
fly  boys.  The  car  was  nearly  full.  I  'm 
alone  in  a  double  seat,  see  ?  A  girl  comes 
runnin*  down  the  aisle  and  sets  down  right 
across  from  me  and  says,  4  Hurry  up  and 
grab  this  place.'  Then  who  comes  up 
and  drops  into  the  seat  with  her  but  Banny, 
understand  ?  I  'm  readin'  the  paper,  but  I 
drops  it  and  makes  the  horrible  play.  I 
lifts  my  derby  clear  off  o'  my  head  ard  I 
57 


ARTIE 

says:  4  Good  evening  ! '  Say,  he  was  four 
feet  away.  Say,  it  was  just  like  you  there 
and  me  here.  This  queen  with  him  sees 
me  make  the  play  and  kind  o'  giggles. 
Mebbe  I  did  n't  do  it  right.  But  him  — 
he  turned  around  sideways  in  his  seat  and 
begins  chinnin'  her  and  never  sees  me  at 
all.  Course,  you  could  n't  expect  him  to. 
I  was  nearly  three  feet  away  and  lookin' 
right  at  him.  Miller,  this  is  straight,  so 
help  me.  He  threw  me  down.  He'd 
never  seen  me  before.  All  because  he 
was  out  with  the  swell  push  and  had  this 
queen  with  him.  I  pulled  the  paper  up  in 
front  o*  me,  and  I  thought  my  ears  'd  fry 
and  fall  off.  I  was  groggy.  Never  did  I 
get  it  harder.  Talk  about  a  half-hook  on 
the  point  o'  the  jaw  !  " 

u  It  was  a  confounded  shame,"  said 
Miller,  warmly. 

u  Say,  Miller,  am  I  a  vag  ?  Am  I  fit 
to  ride  on  a  train  with  other  people  ? 
Would  a  man  queer  himself  by  speakin' 
58 


ARTIE 

to  me  ?  Now,  I  did  n't  expect  no  knock 
down  to  his  girl.  I  do  n't  trot  in  her  class. 
But  to  think  of  that  stiff  turnin'  on  me 
because  I  spoke  to  him.  That 's  what 
put  the  hooks  into  me.  I  won't  forget 
it — never.  I  was  sore,  but  it  was  worse  'n 
that.  It  made  me  feel  rotten." 

"  I  'm  not  surprised." 

"  Well,  I  did  n't  see  him  again  till  to 
day.  You  heard  what  I  said.  Well,  at 
that,  he  's  got  the  best  of  it.  I  never  will 
be  able  to  give  him  the  right  kind  of  a  hot 
come-back  for  what  he  done  to  me." 


VII 

One  Saturday  afternoon  Artie  Blanchard 
was  enjoying  his  half-holiday  in  a  manner 
peculiar  to  himself.  He  was  battling 
with  the  crowd  in  State  street. 

He  had  his  coat-collar  turned  up  and 
his  hat  was  pulled  rakishly  forward  so  that 
it  threatened  to  produce  friction  with  his 
eyebrows  every  time  he  changed  the  ex 
pression  of  his  face. 

He  was  whistling  a  little  composition 
that  had  lately  taken  possession  of  his 
thoughtful  moments.  It  was  entitled  "  I  '11 
Be  True  to  My  Honey  Boy." 

Artie  did  not  know  the  tune  or  the 
words,  so  he  merely  whistled  it  on  specu 
lation  and  when  he  came  to  the  doubtful 
parts  he  hurdled. 

60 


CHE  CONNBLLY  GIRL* 


ARTIE 

When  he  grew  tired  of  whistling  he 
smoked  a  black  cigar.  * 

Artie  was  apparently  at  peace  with  the 
world  and  any  one  to  have  seen  him  shift 
his  cigar  from  the  right  pocket  of  his 
mouth  to  the  left  merely  by  the  play  of 
facial  muscles  would  have  said,  "  Here  's 
a  young  man  content." 

But  Artie,  like  many  other  young  per 
sons,  never  whistled  more  cheerfully, 
smoked  more  hungrily  and  looked  into 
show  windows  with  more  seeming  interest 
than  when  he  was  keeping  company  with 
a  great  sorrow. 

It  could  have  been  nothing  less  than  the 
guiding  hand  of  Fate  that  shoved  him 
around  a  bevy  of  women  who  were  carry 
ing  bundles  and  looking  at  show  windows 
at  the  same  time,  thus  contriving  to  mow 
down  anything  and  anybody  that  happened 
in  their  way.  For  Artie  immediately  got 
a  view  of  the  cause  of  his  sorrow.  He 
would  have  known  her  by  the  sacque 
61 


ARTIE 

alone,  but  the  sprig  of  plumes  on  the  hat 
helped  in  the  identification. 

Your  ordinary  lover  would  have  re 
treated,  palpitating.  Considering  that  when 
Artie  had  last  seen  her  she  was  all  tears 
and  that  his  parting  words  had  been, 
"  There  are  others,"  it  would  have  been 
proper  for  him  to  drop  back  into  the 
moving  crowd  before  she  turned  from  the 
display  of  precious  furs  and  saw  him  there 
looking  at  her. 

But  Artie  did  nothing  of  the  kind. 

He  walked  up  to  her,  brushed  some 
imaginary  dust  from  the  bulge  of  her 
sleeve,  and  said :  "  Hello,  girlerino  !  How 's 
everything  stackin'  ? " 

Mamie  turned  around  and  there  was  a 
leap  of  color  to  her  face. 

She  said:  "Why,  Mr.  Blanchard." 

"What  was  you  pipin'[ofF — the  furs?" 
asked  Artie. 

"Yes,"  with  her  face  half-turned  from 
him* 

63 


ARTIE 

"  Do  you  see  the  big  sealskin  sacque 
there  ?  I  was  lookin'  at  it  the  other  day. 
I  'm  thinkin'  o'  buyin'  it  for  a  lady  friend 
o'  mine." 

« Indeed  ! " 

By  this  time  she  had  recovered  some 
what  and  she  spoke  with  an  evident  at 
tempt  to  be  coldly  sarcastic. 

"  You  heard  me,  did  n't  you  ?  I  w;nt 
in  and  asked  the  main  squeeze  o'  the  works 
how  much  the  sacque  meant  to  him,  and 
he  said  I  could  have  it  for  four  hundred 
samoleons.  '  Well/  I  says,  c  that  's  a 
mere  bagatelle  to  me.  That  would  n't 
keep  me  in  shirt-studs  for  a  month.'  " 

He  paused  for  a  moment  or  two,  watch 
ing  her  all  the  time,  and  then  he  said  : 
"  But  mebbe  you  'd  rather  have  that 
other  one  up  there.  You  know  what 
you  'd  like." 

Mamie  did  not  look  at  him  and  she  did 
not  answer.  Artie's  attempted  playful 
ness  was  too  bearish  for  her,  and  Artie 
63 


ARTIE 

seemed  suddenly  to  realize  this.  He 
changed  his  tactics. 

"  Mame,"  he  said,  putting  his  forefinger 
softly  against  her  arm. 

«  Well  ? " 

"  Is  it  fixed  up  ?  " 

"  Is  what  fixed  up  ?  " 

"  You  know." 

"No,  I  do  n't." 

They  were  standing  side  by  side,  both 
looking  intently  into  the  show-window 
and  talking  to  it.  Their  conduct  was 
sufficiently  strange  to  have  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  people  who  brushed 
against  them.  But  in  State  street  the 
pedestrians  will  not  give  their  serious 
attention  to  a  man  unless  he  does  some 
thing  worthy — such  as  falling  off  a  cable 
car  or  colliding  with  the  tongue  of  a 
wagon. 

"  How  about  my  little  old  picture  ?  Is 
it  turned  to  the  wall  ?  " 

"  I  —  guess  not." 


ARTIE 

"  Oh,  you  're  guessin',  are  you  ?  Well, 
I  s  'pose  the  other  boy 's  fillin'  all  my 
dates  ?  " 

«*  That  silly  thing !  " 

Artie  chirruped  as  if  skeptical.  "  He  's 
a  nice  boy,"  said  he,  and  he  added,  after  a 
deep  sigh,  "  Nit —  not." 

Mamie  turned  to  him,  and,  in  a  quick 
flame  of  earnestness,  said :  "  Artie,  you 
know  I  can't  bear  that  old  thing,  and  I  '11 
never  speak  to  him  again  as  long  as  I  live." 
She  had  tears  in  her  eyes. 

41  You  won't  be  loser  anything  at  that." 

"  I  'm  going  to  write  to  him  and  let 
him  know  something." 

"Why,  no;  not  at  all.  I  've  told  you 
all  along  that  if  you  'd  give  me  his  address 
I  'd  go  around  and  fix  it  al!  up  with 
him." 

"  If  it  had  n't  been  for  him  we  would  n't 
have " 

"  Would  n't  have  put  on  the  gloves, 
eh  ?  Well,  come  on.  Let  *s  be  movinV 


ARTIE 

He  took  her  by  the  arm,  and  then  he 
remembered  that  it  was  State  street  and 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  so  he  let 

g°- 

"  I  have  to  meet  the  Connelly  girls  in  a 

few  minutes.      I  promised  them." 

"  Shake  'em.  You  've  got  somethin' 
better  than  the  Connelly  girls." 

Mamie  gave  him  a  vicrous  nudge  in  the 
ribs  and  broke  out  laughing,  and  the  war 
was  then  and  there  over,  before  the  tears 
had  dried. 

"  About  Tuesday  night,  Mame  ? " 

"  Yes  —  or  Monday." 

"  Good  enough.  An'  now  you  come 
right  in  here  and  get  into  line  with  a  bunch 
o'  violets.  There  's  nothin'  too  rich  for  the 
sunshine  o'  the  North  Side." 

It  was  not  the  same  Mamie  who  came 
out  of  the  florist's  wearing  violets,  and  it 
was  not  the  same  Artie  who  was  grinning 
at  her  delight  over  the  little  present. 


66 


ARTIE 

"  Now,  I    must    go  for  the  Connelly 
girls,"  said  she. 

"  All  right.     Say,  Mame." 

«  Yes." 

*«  I  '11  just  make  that  to-morrow  night." 


VIII 

At  eight  o'clock  the  front  room  was 
gently  baking  with  heat  from  the  base- 
burner,  and  the  gas-jet,  with  four  scalloped 
dance  programmes  dangling  from  it,  was 
lighted  to  the  utmost. 

On  the  marble-topped  table  was  the 
photograph  of  a  tense  young  man  with 
plastered  hair.  The  picture  lay  against  a 
metallic  prop  of  fanciful  design  which  was 
intrenched  between  the  album  and  a  copy 
of  "  Lucille."  The  swollen  furniture  was 
ornately  jig-sawed  and  confined  in  plush, 
and  every  piece  of  it  was  modestly  backed 
up  against  the  wall. 

The  crayon  portrait  of  Mamie's  father 
looked  down  benignly  on  this  room  cleared 
for  action.  The  portrait  represented  a 
bearded  fop  with  a  fantastic  forelock,  a 


THE  INDIAN 


ARTIE 

neck-tie  spotted  with  great  accuracy  and  a 
shirt-front  bearing  a  lump  of  gold.  On 
two  or  three  occasions  of  his  life,  Mamie's 
father  had  borne  an  approximate  resem 
blance  to  the  man  in  the  frame. 

One  occasion  was  that  of  the  visit  to 
the  photographer's  and  the  other  was  that 
of  the  social  reception  to  the  executive 
committee  of  the  Union.  In  the  picture 
Mamie's  father  was  clean  and  unwrinkled 
and  he  bore  a  placid,  maiden-like  ex 
pression  which  Mamie  had  seldom  ob 
served  in  him. 

The  crayon  portrait  had  originally  been 
a  bargain  for  $2.50,  and  the  agent  who  de 
livered  it  had  put  in  a  frame  at  $14.  The 
frame  was  a  boiling  foliage  of  white  and 
silver.  With  such  a  picture  in  the  house 
there  was  no  chance  for  Mamie  to  lose  re 
gard  for  her  father.  As  for  the  father,  he 
escaped  an  affliction  of  pride  by  remaining 
in  other  rooms  of  the  house. 

This  crayon  portrait  dwarfed  the  "  Yard 
69 


ARTIE 

of  Roses,"  the  "  Wide-Awake"  and  "  Fast 
Asleep"  prints  and  the  other  pictures 
hanging  on  the  walls.  It  was  the  lumin 
ous  thing  of  the  front  parlor,  and  it  was 
to  the  portrait  that  Artie  Blanchard  ad 
dressed  himself  as  he  came  in  from  the 
hallway,  with  his  arm  lingering  at  Mamie's 
waist,  half-way  between  a  caress  and  a 
hug.  "  Hello,  old  boy,"  said  he,  and  then 
he  asked  Mamie,  "  How  does  the  old  gen 
tleman  stack  up  ? " 

41  He 's  back  there  now,  reading  the 
paper." 

"All  right.    I  was  n't  lookin'  for  him." 

Artie  pulled  out  a  chair  and  seated  him 
self  in  it  sidewise.  He  happened  to  see 
the  photograph  on  the  table. 

Artie  —  "  Well,  I  'm  not  turned  to  the 
wall,  eh?" 

Mamie  —  "  Do  n't  begin  talking  that 
way." 

Artie — "I    was   just    kiddin',  Mame 
How's  the  ma-mah  ?  " 
70 


ARTIE 

Mamie  —  "  She  was  asking  about  you 
to-day." 

Artie  —  "  Say,  on  the  square,  has  she 
got  any  time  for  me  ?  " 

Mamie  (warmly)  — "  Why,  of  course. 
She  likes  you." 

Artie  — "  Well,  the  ma-mah's  got  a 
cold  eye  in  her  head.  I  can't  make  out 
whether  I  'm  strong  or  not.  She  ain't 
the  kind  of  a  girl  that  'd  be  afraid  to  say  a 
few  things  if  she  wanted  to." 

Mamie  —  "Pooh!" 

Artie  —  "How  about  the  ringer?" 

Mamie  —  "  What 's  that  ?  " 

Artie  —  "  You  know  —  that  guy  you 
was  goin'  to  frost.  Have  you  wrote  to 
him  ? " 

Mamie  (excitedly)  —  "  You  mean  Mr. 
Wilson.  I  have  n't  told  you,  have  I  ? " 

Artie  — "  Well,  I  should  say  not.  Has 
he  been  trailin'  you  again  ?  " 

Mamie  —  "  No,  but  he   wrote  to  me. 


7» 


ARTIE 

It  's  the  funniest  thing  you  ever  read. 
I  '11  get  you  the  letter." 

Artie  —  "  Gee  !  That  boy  *s  a  stayer. 
If  he  do  n't  keep  off  o'  my  route  there  '11 
be  people  walkin'  slow  behind  him  one  o' 
these  days.  Let 's  see  what  he  says." 

{Mamie  goes  to  the  adjoining  room  and  re 
turns  with  a  letter  and  offers  it  to  Artie?) 

Artie  —  "  Go  on  and  spiel." 

Mamie  (with  a  nervous  giggle  as  a  pre 
liminary) — "  Well,  he  begins  by  saying, 
'  Miss  Mary  Carroll,  My  Dear  Madam.' " 

Artie  —  '"My  Dear  Madam.'  Wouldn't 
that  cock  you,  though  ? " 

Mamie  —  "  Listen."      (Reads) 

"  I  do  not  know  why  you  should  have 
treated  me  as  you  have  done.  I  have  always 
regarded  you  as  a  friend,  but  of  late  I  have  come 
to  the  opinion  that  you  desire  to  sever  our 
friendship,  seeing  that  you  did  not  speak  when 
I  met  you  last  Sunday  eve.  If  you  have 
anything  against  me  I  would  like  to  know  in 
what  regards  I  have  not  treated  you  right  and 
72 


ARTIE 

like  a  lady.  I  am  very  truly,  your  obedient 
servant.  GRANT  WILSON." 

Artie  —  "  That  's  a  good  thing.  I 
wonder  where  he  got  next  to  that  fancy 
'pass  about  severin*  friendships.  I  '11  make 
that  foxy  boy  think  somebody  's  severed 
him  if  I  take  a  crack  at  him.  Did  you 
answer  it,  Mame  ?  " 

Mamie  —  "  Not  yet.      Would  you  ?  " 

Artie  —  "Sure!  I'd  send  him  one 
that  'd  burn  a  hole  in  the  mail-sack.  You 
get  your  little  old  sheet  of  paper  and  I  '11 
tip  you  off  a  few  things  to  tell  that  boy. 
I'  11  bet  you  all  kinds  of  money  that  I 
can  send  him  somethin'  that  he  '11  talk 
about  in  his  sleep.  You  get  the  paper." 

(Mamie  goes  to  the  next  room  and  returns 
with  writing  material.  She  removes  the 
photograph  album  and  then  seats  herself  at 
the  table  ready  to  write.  An  attack  of  the 


Artie  —  "  Chop  the  laughin'.     Go  on 
and  write  to  him.     I  '11  tell  you  what  to 
73 


ARTIE 

say.  Just  begin  this  way,  c  You  're  all 
right  but  you  won't  do.' >: 

Mamie  — "  No,  no,  Artie,  please  no. 
I  do  n't  want  to  say  it  that  way.  Besides, 
I  've  got  to  address  him  first.  Now,  what 
shall  I  call  him  ?  " 

Artie  — "  You  could  call  him  a  good 
many  things  and  make  no  error,  I  '11  tell 
you  those." 

Mamie  —  "I  know,  but  shall  1  say 
*  Mr.  Wilson,  Sir,'  or  just  *  Dear  Sir  ?'  " 

Artie  —  "Naw,  not  in  a  thousand. 
What  do  you  want  to  jolly  him  for  ? 
Get  in  plenty  o*  rough  work  right  from 
the  start.  Throw  it  into  him  hard.  Call 
him  c  foolish  Wilson  boy.'  You  've  got 
to  wallop  one  o'  them  people  to  make  'em 
understand.  Just  say,  c  Get  out  o'  town 
and  keep  quiet  and  you  may  live  to  see 
the  flowers  again.'  If  you  give  him  that 
easy  talk  he  '11  think  you  're  leadin*  him 
on.  Let  me  write  to  his  nobs  and  /'//  fix 
him.  (Artie  takes  the  pen  and  writes  for  a 
74 


ARTIE 

few  moments,  Mamie  watching  him  and 
suppressing  giggles?)  Now,  how  's  this  ? 
This  is  the  real  stuff.  (Reads?) 

"  '  I  just  received  your  nervy  letter.  You  are 
all  right,  but  you  won't  do.  Do  not  come  into 
our  ward  or  I  will  have  you  pinched.  Remem 
ber,  I  never  saw  you  before  in  all  my  life. 
You  are  worse  than  a  stranger  to  me.  I  would 
advise  you  to  stop  smokin'  that  double-X  brand 
of  dope,  because  it  gives  you  funny  dreams.  By 
fallin'  off  the  earth  you  will  oblige.'  ' 

Mamie  (on  the  verge  of  hysterics)  — 
"  Oh-h-h-h.h  !  What  would  he  think  if 
I  sent  him  a  letter  like  that  ? " 

Artie  —  "  He  'd  think  he  was  up  against 
the  cold  outside,  and  that 's  where  he  is, 
huh?" 

Mamie  —  "  Of  course.  You  know 
that." 

(Artie  drops  the  pen,  and  with  great  cau 
tion  wraps  his  arm  around  her  waist?) 

TABLEAU. 

75 


IX 

On  that  morning  Artie  had  come  in  a 
half-hour  late. 

His  "  Good  morning,  people,"  was  dry 
and  husky,  and  after  he  had  seated  himself 
^t  his  desk  he  put  his  left  palm  up  to  his 
forehead,  sighed  deeply,  and  said,  without 
addressing  any  one  in  particular :  "  The 
boy  that  wrote  that  song  about  l  Oh,  what 
a  difference  in  the  morning,'  was  on  to  his 
job.  I  've  got  a  set  o'  coppers  on  me  this 
g.  m.  that  'd  heat  a  four-room  flat  and  my 
mouth  tastes  like  a  Chinese  family  'd  just 
moved  out  of  it." 

"Another  poker  party  ?  "  asked  Miller. 

u  Guess    again.      Worse  'n  any  poker 

party.     A  bat  —  a  real  old  bat.     Pazoo- 

oo-oom !  Ooh  !     Mebbe  you  think  I  ain  't 

got  a  lulu  of  a  head  on  me  this  morning. 

76 


HE  BATTLE-AX 


ARTIE 

I  ought  to  be  out  at  the  Washin'tonian 
home  with  the  rest  o'  them  stills  and 
hypos." 

"  You  do  n't  mean  to  say  that  you  were 
—  loaded  ?"  inquired  Miller,  leaning  over 
his  desk  and  lowering  his  voice  so  that 
young  Mr.  Hall  should  not  hear. 

"  To  the  guards.  Up  to  here,"  and 
Artie,  elevating  his  chin,  drew  a  fore 
finger  across  his  Adam's  apple. 

"  Well,  I  declare,"  said  Miller,  and  in 
his  voice  were  both  sorrow  and  reproof. 

"  Jump  on  to  me,"  said  Artie,  as  he  tried 
to  rub  the  sleep  out  of  his  eyes.  "  You 
can't  make  me  feel  any  sorer  'n  I  was 
when  I  woke  up  this  morning.  My  head 
reached  out  over  two  pillows.  I  did  n't 
do  a  thing  to  the  water  pitcher,  neither. 
When  I  tossed  that  water  into  me  it 
sounded  like  when  a  blacksmith  sticks  a 
red-hot  horseshoe  into  a  tub  of  water. 
That  V  no  dream,  neither." 

"  How  did  it  happen  ?  " 
77 


ARTIE 

"  How  does  any  o'  them  things  happen? 
After  playin'  three  or  four  games  o'  pool 
I  starts  out  to  get  a  car  and  I  ain't  got 
it  yet.  That 's  always  the  way  —  good 
thing,  too.  Say,  Miller,  there  ain't  many 
men  that  go  out  huntin'  a  tide.  It  *s  a 
case  of  meetin'  a  friend  and  him  sayin' 
somethin',  and  then  another  friend  and  he 
loosens,  and  then  you  come  up,  and  then 
the  first  man  thaws  again  and  nobody 
wants  to  welch  on  the  proposition,  and 
they  keep  comin'  along  and  you  're  a  good 
fellow,  see  ?  and  do  n't  want  to  be  a  quit 
ter,  and  the  first  thing  you  know  you  're 
up  against  it,  and  you  do  n't  care  whether 
there 's  any  night  cars  runnin'  or  not." 
"  Is  that  what  happened  last  night  ?  " 
"About  it.  I  meets  Billy  Munster, 
and  if  you  ever  trotted  a  heat  with  him 
you  know  that  he 's  one  o'f  the  biggest 
jolliers  that  ever  come  over  the  hills,  and 
when  it  comes  to  bowlin'  —  well,  he  pours 
a  drink  that  'd  make  any  bar-tender  quit 
78 


ARTIE 

bein*  sociable.  Did  you  ever  try  his 
game  ?  " 

"  I  never  heard  of  him." 

"  You  've  missed  a  whole  lot.  He  's 
got  a  job  over  at  the  city  hall.  I  never 
see  him  do  a  stroke  of  work,  but  he  can 
always  make  a  flash  o*  the  long  green, 
and  I  guess  it 's  easy  money,  too,  from 
the  way  he  lets  go  of  it.  I  Ve  heard  he 
gets  his  bit  on  nearly  every  good  thing  that 
comes  along.  What  his  pull  is  I  never 
could  figure  out.  Every  time  I  see  him 
over  at  the  city  hall  he  's  whisperin'  to 
one  o'  them  red-necked  boys  and  fixin' 
it  up  to  give  somebody  the  double-cross. 
At  that,  he  's  a  good  fellow.  I  think  he  '^ 
mace  a  sucker  if  he  got  half  a  chance, 
but  after  he  got  the  dough  he  M  spend  it 
freely.  That's  the  kind  of  a  boy  he  is, 
and  last  night  he  had  a  roll  that  you  could 
'a'  stopped  up  a  window  with.  The 
minute  I  meets  him  he  steers  me  into 
a  joint,  makes  me  heave  in  a  couple 
79 


ARTIE 

and  then  says :  l  Come  on  ;  I  've  got  a 
good  thing  for  you.'  '  Nit,'  I  says,  because 
I  knew  his  gait.  I  says:  *  I 've  seen 
enough  o'  them  sunrises  over  old  Lake 
Michigan.'  c  No,'  he  says  ;  4  on  the  level; 
we  '11  just  drop  into  the  music  hall  and 
stay  a  little  while.'  So  I  goes." 

"  You  ought  to  have  gone  on  home." 
"  Sure ;  we  all  know  that  the  next  day. 
But  I  goes  just  the  same.  We  had  n't 
been  in  there  ten  minutes  till  Billy  dug  up 
a  'longshoreman  with  gold  in  her  teeth  and 
was  buyin'  beer  for  her.  He  kept  'em 
comin'  fast  and  I  could  n't  dodge  'em. 
Purty  soon  I  was  joinin'  in  the  chorus,  and 
I  guess  from  that  stage  o'  the  game  they 
did  n't  have  to  pull  at  me  to  keep  me  up 
and  comin.'  When  the  song-bird  come 
out  to  do  her  turn  I  could  see  two  of  her. 
I  guess  this  girl  that  Billy  knew  spotted  us 
for  a  couple  of  easy  marks,  for  she  floated 
away  somewhere  and  come  back  with  a 
friend  o'  hers." 

80 


ARTIE 

Artie  stopped  in  his  narrative  and  gave 
a  low,  buzzing  whistle.  "  You  ought  to 
seen  her." 

"Why?"  asked  Miller,  and  he  had  to 
smile  in  anticipation. 

"  Say,  there  was  a  battle-ax  if  ever  you 
see  one.  She  had  a  face  on  her  that  'd  fade 
flowers.  It  had  one  o'  them  calcimine  hard 
finishes.  You  can  guess  how  far  along  I 
was  when  I  did  n't  shy  at  it.  And  oh, 
the  haughty  front  that  she  put  up.  She 
said  she  was  an  actorine.  'What  troupe?' 
I  says.  'Well,'  she  says,  'at  present  I  'm 
restinV  I  '11  bet  a  dollar  she  never  done 
nothin'  on  the  stage  but  carry  a  shield, 
but  to  hear  the  guff  she  was  throwin' 
out  you  'd  think  she  could  make  Ellen 
Terry  look  like  a  Friday  night  amatoor. 
Oh,  she  was  a  bird.  I  think  her  name 
was  Gladys.  If  she  come  in  this  room 
now  I  'd  jump  out  o'  that  window,  and 
last  night  when  I  was  sloppy  I  thought 
she  was  the  best  ever.  That  just  goes 
81 


ARTIE 

to    show    what    the    hop-juice  '11    do    for 
you." 

"  How  long  did  you  stay  there  ?  M 
"  Till  the  whole  works  was  closed.  I 
bought  drinks  for  this  pelican  friend  o* 
mine  till  she  hollered  for  me  to  stop, 
and  then  I  says  to  Billy,  I  says  :  c  Let 's 
take  the  ladies  out  and  give  'em  a  little 
supper.'  That  was  me  said  that,  under 
stand  ?  It  was  only  a  little  after  mid 
night,  you  know — the  mere  shank  o'  the 
evening — and  I  could  n't  think  o'  startin' 
home  as  early  as  that.  Oh,  no.  Little 
Artie  had  to  go  and  give  the  ladies  some 
supper.  You  know  how  liberal  a  guy  is 
about  that  time  o'  night.  He  do  n't  like  to 
take  no  money  home  with  him.  Billy  was 
right  with  me,  of  course.  He 's  a  stayer 
from  Stayersville.  We  got  out  o'  the 
music  hall  —  I  remember  that  —  and  the 
next  thing  I  can  cipher  out  was  that  we 
got  to  the  restaurant  and  I  was  pleadin' 
with  my  tall  friend  to  just  go  right  ahead 
82 


ARTIE 
i 

and  order  anything  she  wanted.  Well, 
she  was  fly  enough  to  do  that.  Little 
Gladys  was  more  'n  seven.  I  think  it  'd  be 
about  an  even-money  break  that  she 's 
seven  times  seven.  She  ordered  nearly 
everything  on  the  bill  and  I  guess  I  went 
to  sleep  with  my  face  in  a  plate..  That 's 
after  Billy  had  ordered  two  or  three  more 
rounds.  Oh,  he  's  a  wonder,  that  boy. 
I  do  n't  know  where  he  stows  it." 

Artie  took  a  full  breath  and  once  more 
felt  of  his  head. 

"  That 's  about  all  I  remember,"  said 
he,  "  except  payin'  the  check  and  havin' 
Billy  take  me  over  to  the  hotel.  It  must 
V  been  three  o'clock  when  I  got  to  bed 
and  I  pounded  my  ear  till  past  seven. 
I  *ve  had  a  nice  breakfast.  It  was  a  tall 
tub  o'  seltzer  lemonade.  Talk  about 
old  R.  E.  Morse ;  I  'm  full  of  it  this 
morning.  This  is  the  first  time  I  've  had 
a  day-after  head  in  many  moons,  and  if 
you  ever  ketch  me  with  another  one  you 
83 


ARTIE 

can  take  a  ball  club  and  hammer  the  life 
out  o'  me.     Now,  that  goes." 

"  What  do  you  think  Mamie  would  say 
if  she  knew  you  had  been  out  with  this 
other  girl  ?  "  asked  Miller,  rather  severely. 

"  Stop  it,  Miller.  Do  n't  go  to  rubbin' 
it  in.  I  got  trouble  enough  to-day  without 
thinkin'  o'  that.  If  she  'd  ever  saw  me 
with  that  fairy  I  would  n't  be  deuce  high 
with  her  now.  You  could  n't  blame  her 
neither.  What  do  you  think  of  a  chump 
that  'd  pass  up  a  four-time  winner  to  go 
and  play  his  money  against  a  sellin'  plater, 
and  a  has-been  at  that?  I  did  n't  put  you 
on  to  the  good  thing  though,  did  I  ?  Last 
night  I  had  nine  cases.  This  morning 
when  I  frisked  myself  I  "could  n't  turn 
up  only  sixty  cents.  I  just  fed  eight  big 
iron  louies  into  that  game  last  night.  I 
do  n't  know  how  I  '11  ever  keep  up  the 
bluff  o'  workin'  to-day.  How  do  I  look?" 

'•You  look  knocked  out." 

"Well,  I  feel  the  part." 
84 


MR.   CARROLL 


**  I  've  got  it  to  do,"  said  Artie,  "  and 
I  s  'pose  I  'd  better  put  on  the  best  front 
I  can  and  play  it  out." 

41  There 's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of," 
suggested  Miller. 

"  Do  n't  tell  me  nothin'  about  that 
game.  I  know  just  what  it  '11  be.  On 
the  dead,  I  'd  give  a  ten-case  note  to  be 
out  of  it,  but  Mame  would  n't  have  it 
that  way.  She  said  she  'd  promised  the 
Connelly  girl,  and  there  you  are.  I  'm 
goin'  to  be  the  head  knocker  in  the  push. 
It 's  a  case  of  gettin'  a  day  off  and  seein* 
the  thing  through  from  soda  to  hock.  We 
got  to  meet  at  the  house  and  go  from  there 
in  a  carriage." 

"  You  '11  enjoy  it,"  said  Miller,  smiling. 

"  What,  doin'  the  slow  march  up  the 
85 


ARTIE 

aisle  and  then  standin'  there  while  the 
main  guy  spiels  and  all  that  business  ? 
Not  on  your  tintype.  I  '11  make  a  mis- 
cue  somewhere ;  you  see  if  I  do  n't." 

"  You  'd  better  get  used  to  it  and  find 
out  how  it  's  done.  Some  of  these 
days  you  '11  have  to  go  through  the  mill 
yourself." 

"  Say,  that 's  what  I  told  Mame,  ana 
you  ought  o'  seen  her.  She  blushed  up 
and  got  rattled  and  could  n't  say  a  word." 

"  She  understood  what  you  meant, 
did  n't  she  ?  " 

"Well,  I  guess  she  was  keen  enough 
to  make  a  good,  warm  guess  at  it." 

Miller  gazed  at  Artie  for  a  few  moments 
and  then  said:  "  It 's  none  of  my  business, 
Artie,  but — you  two  are  engaged,  are  n't 
you  ? " 

Artie  swallowed  something  and  seemed 
to  be  considerably  embarrassed. 

"Miller,"  said  he, confidentially ,"you've 
asked  me  a  hard  one.  On  the  level,  I 
86 


do  n't  know  whether  we  've  got  it  fixed 
up  or  not.  You  know  my  style  of  play. 
I  can  kid  all  right,  but  when  it  comes  to 
makin'  a  dead  serious  play  I  'm  a  horrible 
frost.  I  'm  the  worst  that  ever  come  up 
the  pike.  Between  you  and  me  and  the 
desk  here,  I  think  she  knows  that  it 's 
goin'  to  be  a  marry  as  soon  as  things  come 
right.  But  as  for  me  ever  comin'  to  the 
scratch  and  sayin',  c  Here,  how  it  is  ?  Do 
you  want  to  open  my  mail  ? '  w'y,  I 
never  had  the  face  to  do  it  yet." 

"  I  thought  you  had  nerve  enough  to 
do  anything." 

"  Miller,  let  me  put  you  next  to  some- 
thin'.  I  know  a  bad  man  on  the  West 
Side  that  can  lick  his  weight  in  wildcats 
and  bluff  any  four  or  five  common  dubs, 
and  he  's  got  a  wife  that  weighs  about 
ninety  pounds  that  '11  give  him  just  one 
look  and  he  Ml  crawl  under  a  table.  He 's 
dead  stuck  on  her,  and  she  can  do  anything 
she  wants  to  with  him.  It  ain't  that  he 
87 


ARTIE 

ain  't  got  nerve  enough.  What  is  it,  then  ? 
Huh  ? " 

"  You  're  getting  too  deep  for  me, 
Artie,"  said  Miller,  shaking  his  head. 
"  What  I  meant  was  that  I  thought  you 
knew  Mamie  so  well  you  could  be  per 
fectly  free  and  candid  with  her." 

"  I  'm  an  easy  runner  till  it  comes  to  the 
high  jump  and  then  I  quit  cold.  I 
can  jolly  and  have  fun  and  put  my 
arm  around  her,  but  when  it  comes 
to  takin'  her  by  the  mit  and  doin'  the 
straight  talk  —  nit,  and  again  nit.  Two 
or  three  times  here  lately  I  Ve  said  to 
myself :  4  W'y,  you  big  stiff,  brace  up 
and  get  through  with  it  before  you  go 
daffy.'  Then  I  think  I  'm  all  right,  see  ? 
But  as  soon  as  I  get  with  her  all  that 
brace  fades  on  me  and  I  say  :  l  What 's 
the  good  ?  Next  week  '11  do  just  as  well.' 
Besides,  would  n't  I  make  a  picture  if 
she  'd  stand  me  off  ?  " 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  when  she  asked 
88 


ARTIE 

you  to  stand  up  with  her  at  this  wedding 
that  was  about  as  strong  a  hint  as  you 
could  ask.  You  do  n't  expect  her  to  come 
right  out,  do  you  ?  " 

"  No,  but  I  feel  a  good  deal  like  a  guy 
that  I  meet  out  at  the  boat  club.  He 
says  that  if  he  asked  a  girl  to  marry  him 
and  she  said  cyes,'  he  'd  begin  to  think  her 
judgment  was  purty  rotten.  I  don't 
s'pose  anybody  on  top  of  earth  can  beat 
my  time  with  Mame,  but  what  she  sees  in 
me  to  get  stuck  on  is  what  keeps  your 
Willie  boy  guessin'. " 

"  What  does  any  woman  see  in  any 
man  ?  "  asked  Miller,  gravely,  somewhat 
gratified  that  Artie  had  taken  up  with  a 
social  theme  of  such  magnitude. 

"  Sometimes  she  sees  a  roll  o'  the  long 
green,"  replied  Artie,  "  but  Mame  must 
have  good  eyesight  if  she  can  find  any  pile 
belongin'  to  me.  You  can  turn  them  X 
rays  on  to  my  bank-book  and  not  find 
enough  dough  to  fit  up  a  flat." 
89 


ARTIE 

"  She  's  not  after  your  money." 

"  No,  you  can  gamble  she  ain't.  I 
s'pose  it's  because  I  'm  young  and  good." 

"  Yes,  because  you  never  drink  or  stay 
out  nights." 

"  Break  away  !  I  'm  tryin'  to  forget 
all  about  that.  That 's  one  reason  I  give 
in  to  Mame  on  this  weddin'  proposition. 
I  felt  so  ornery  about  the  night  that  me 
and  Munster  laid  open  the  town  that  I  'd 
'a'  done  most  anything  to  get  even  with 
myself.  She  said  the  Connelly  girl  and 
her  had  gone  to  school  together  and 
had  been  travelin'  as  a  team,  and  that 
Florence  would  n't  have  nobody  else  to 
play  first  mate  when  the  thing  was  pulled 
off.  And  she  says :  l  You  do  n't  want 
nobody  else  to  stand  up  with  me,  do 
you  ? '  That  kind  o'  jolted,  and  I  told 
her  I  was  n't  stuck  on  puttin'  in  an  un 
derstudy,  and  so  I  promised  to  go  against 
the  game." 


ARTIE 

"  Do  you  know  this  girl  that 's  to  be 
married  ?  " 

"  I  've  seen  her  two  or  three  times,  but 
she  always  had  the  mash  along.  The  two 
of  'em  went  with  Mame  and  me  over  to 
Turner  Hall  one  night.  Oh,  but  they  was 
gone  on  each  other.  His  name  's  Tommy 
Bradshaw  and  he  runs  a  cigar  store.  They 
say  he  does  a  nice  little  business  and  be 
longs  with  the  real  boys,  but  every  time  I 
ever  see  him  he  was  a  lobster.  You 
could  n't  drag  him  more  'n  six  feet  away 
from  his  sure  thing.  He  kept  tab  on  her 
every  minute.  He  'd  set  there  holdin*  her 
fan  and  whisperin'  to  her,  and  he  did  n't 
want  no  one  else  to  cut  in.  I  thought 
his  work  was  very  coarse.  There  's  no 
need  of  a  man  goin'  nanny  just  because 
he  's  copped  out  a  nice  girl  all  for  him 
self." 

"  Well,  Artie,  when  a  man  *s  in  love 
you  can  't  hold  him  accountable." 


ARTIE 

"  That 's  no  dream,  neither.  Any  one 
that 's  got  his  head  full  o'  the  girl  proposi 
tion  's  liable  to  go  off  his  trolley  at  the 
first  curve.  I  would  n't  Jve  believed  it  six 
months  ago,  but  if  that  North  Side  won 
der  'd  turn  on  me  now  and  gi'  me  the 
marble  heart,  I  tell  you  it 's  a  safe  money 
guess  that  I  'd  go  and  jump  in  the  lake." 

"  Yes,  and  your  old  friend  Wilson 
would  be  back  courting  Mamie." 

"  Yes,  he  would,  would  he  ?  If  she 
ever  passes  me  up  it  '11  be  for  some  guy 
that  hauls  a  good  deal  more  freight  than 
that  Indian  does." 


TOMMY 


XI 

A  large  yellow  rose  drooped  from 
Artie's  lapel  as  he  came  into  the  office  on 
Thursday  morning. 

"  Hark,  I  think  I  hear  them  weddin'  bells. 
Tingaly-ting,  tingaly-ting,  ting-ting-ting." 

As  he  sung  this,  he  put  one  hand  behind 
his  ear  and  stood  in  the  listening  attitude 
so  commonly  affected  by  neat  song-and- 
dance  artists. 

"Aha!  The  best  man,  I  believe?" 
said  Miller,  moving  back  from  his  desk 
and  regarding  Artie's  specialty  with  keen 
delight. 

"  You  know  it,"  replied  Artie,  "  you 
know  it.  I  was  the  stroke  oar  at  the 
doin's,  and  while  I  ain't  throwin'  any 
bouquets  at  myself  I  must  say  that  me 
and  Mame  was  the  hit  o'  the  piece." 

93 


ARTIE 

"  You  got  through  all  right,  then  ?  " 

"  A  little  slow  on  the  get-away,  but  I 
made  a  Garrison  finish.  I  was  runnin*  in 
strange  company,  too,  but  as  soon  as  I 
got  the  pace  they  could  n't  head  me." 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it.  You  and  Mamie 
really  stood  up  with  them,  did  you  ?  " 

"  Did  we  ?  Ain't  I  tellin'  you  that  we 
done  the  pacemakin'?  I  give  Mame  a 
wad  o'  roses  that  laid  over  anything  the 
bride  could  flash,  and  mebbe  you  think  she 
was  n't  in  good  form.  Oh,  doctor !  She 
looked  out  o'  sight !  Some  of  'em  have  got 
their  sealskins  and  their  sparklers,  but  this 
little  girl,  with  that  new  make-up  and  the 
flowers,  beat  the  best  of  'em.  I  '11  back 
her  against  all  comers,  bar  none.  Talk 
about  your  peaches,  why,  she  's  a  whole 
orchard !  That  's  no  Hungarian  joke, 
neither." 

"  By  George,  Artie,  you  are  hard  hit," 
said  Miller,  laughing. 

"  You  're  dead  right  there,  an'  I  make 
94 


ARTIE 

no  bones  about  it.  She  's  got  me  landed 
and  strung.  Say,  you  must  think  I  'm  a 
prize  gilly  to  set  around  here  and  give  up 
my  insides  to  you  about  her,  but  I  '11  tell 
you,  Miller,  you  're  the  only  man  that  I  'd 
tell  some  things  to,  and  I  cough  up  to  you 
because  I  know  that  you  're  a  good  fellow 
—  and  understand  that  —  puttin'  aside  all 
this  kid  talk " 

"  That 's  all  right,  Artie.  You  need  n't 
be  afraid  of  me  telling  any  one.  There  is 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  anyway.  Every 
man  falls  in  love  sooner  or  later." 

"  Love  !  There  's  a  word  that  makes 
me  weary,  but  on  the  square,  that 's 
what  I  've  got.  It 's  a  sure-enough  case. 
Where  's  Hall  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  's  out  collecting  to-day." 

"  I  'm  glad  of  it.  I  do  n't  like  to  say 
too  much  in  front  o'  that  boy.  He  do  n't 
know  any  more  'n  the  law  allows,  and  since 
he  's  started  to  that  dancin'  school  I  think 
he  hears  funny  noises  under  his  bonnet." 
95 


ARTIE 

"  Are  you  going  to  tell  me  about  that 
wedding  ?  "  asked  Miller,  impatiently. 

"  Well,  it  was  a  bird.  We  did  n't 
break  into  the  sassiety  notes,  but  that  cuts 
no  ice  in  our  set.  It  took  all  day  to 
'pull  it  off.  Mame  told  me  to  come 
straight  to  the  Connelly  house,  because 
she  had  to  go  there  early  in  the  morning. 
Her  and  the  other  Connelly  girl  was 
handlin'  the  bride.  It  was  nearly  ten 
o'clock  when  I  got  there,  and  there  was  a 
big  push  in  the  front  room  —  Mame's 
mother,  old  man  Connelly,  Mrs.  Connelly, 
Tommy  Bradshaw — he  was  the  main  guy, 
you  know  —  one  o'  Tommy's  brothers 
from  the  South  Side  and  a  chilly  mug  by 
the  name  of  Parker,  some  relation  to 
Tommy.  This  frosty  party  was  doin' 
the  touch-me-not  business  all  day,  an'  you 
could  n't  get  him  to  take  his  gloves  off. 
Tommy  —  new  suit,  new  white  necktie, 
new  dicer,  new  shoes.  When  he  'd  lean 
back  and  throw  one  leg  over  the  other, 
96 


ARTIE 

just  to  show  that  he  was  takin'  it  dead 
easy,  you  could  see  the  yellow  soles  o'  them 
shoes.  He  was  washed  and  combed  till 
he  did  n't  look  right.  Say,  you  could  smell 
the  bay-rum  clear  across  the  room.  I 
think  he  overdone  it,  myself.  And  say, 
you  ought  o'  seen  him  when  Mame's 
mother  started  to  throw  the  harpoon  into 
him." 

"  The  harpoon  ? "  inquired  Miller.  He 
had  known  Artie  for  a  long  time,  but 
occasionally  the  boy  was  too  versatile  for 
him. 

"  Sure,  the  stringin'  business.  That 
old  girl 's  a  wonder.  You  see,  here  was 
Mrs.  Connelly  settin'  there  snifflin'  and 
drippin'  around  as  if  she  was  goin'  to  bury 
the  daughter  instead  of  stakin'  her  to  a 
cigar  store.  That  worried  old  man  Con 
nelly,  and  so  Mame's  mother  tried  to  jolly 
the  crowd  up  by  playin'  horse  with 
Tommy.  She  'd  say  :  l  Well,  Mr.  Brad- 
shaw,  you  're  a  very  handsome  man  in 
97 


ARTIE 

your  new  clothes,'  and  then  throw  me  the 
wink.  Then  she  'd  ask  him  if  he  'd  back 
out  if  he  had  the  chance  and  how  many 
girls  he  'd  been  engaged  to  before.  She 
had  him  balled  up  till  he  could  n't  say 
a  word.  No  use,  though;  Mrs.  Con 
nelly  kept  moppin'  her  eyes  and  every 
little  while  sayin'  4Ah-h-h-h,'  like  that. 
I  guess  it  was  n't  put  on,  though.  She 
was  probably  broke  up.  Women  are 
different." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  assented  Miller, "  she  hated 
to  lose  her  daughter." 

"  I  do  n't  believe  it  was  that.  She 
claimed  it  was  the  happiest  day  of  her  life, 
and  then  as  soon  as  she  said  it  she  com 
menced  to  leak  again.  But  you  ought  'o 
seen  old  man  Connelly.  Oh,  he 's  a 
great  old  tad — has  charge  o'  the  wagons 
for  one  o'  them  Franklin  street  wholesale 
houses.  They  say  he  makes  good  money. 
Well,  yesterday  he  was  up  against  a  new 
proposition.  He  was  all  togged  out  and 
98 


ARTIE 

had  a  collar  that  was  chokin*  the  life  out 
of  him.  All  he  could  do  was  to  wipe  his 
mouth  on  the  back  of  his  mit  and  kind  o' 
trail  after  the  others.  What  do  you  think  ? 
At  the  church  he  wanted  to  slide  into  a 
back  seat  and  let  the  rest  of  us  go  up 
front.  'Come  on,'  I  says;  'be  a  good 
fellow  and  stay  with  us.'  He  said  he 
could  see  all  right  from  where  he  was, 
but  his  wife  yanked  him  out  and  made 
him  stick." 

"  When  did  you  get  to  the  church  ?  " 
"  It  was  after  twelve  o'clock,  all  right. 
W'y,  we  give  a  parade  —  three  carriages 
we  had.  I  had  n't  hardly  had  a  chance 
to  see  Mame  in  her  new  clothes  till  we 
got  in  the  carriage  with  Florence  and 
Tommy.  Florence  had  about  twenty 
yards  o'  this  mosquito-bar  stuff  hangin' 
to  her  and  was  made  up  great,  but  even 
at  that  she  could  n't  get  better  'n  place 
with  Mame  in  the  runnin'.  She  's  a  nice 
girl,  though.  I  do  n't  want  to  back-cap 
99 


ARTIE 

her.  She  was  rattled  and  so  was  Tommy. 
All  the  way  to  the  church  they  did  n't  say 
more  'n  twenty  words,  and  that  was  about 
how  glad  she  was  the  sun  had  come  out 
and  wantin'  to  know  if  Mr.  Parker  was 
in  the  carriage  behind.  Tommy  grinned 
and  looked  foolish.  To  tell  the  truth  I 
got  kind  o'  nanny  myself  when  we  stop 
ped  in  front  of  the  church  and  piled  out. 
Mame  was  all  right,  though.  She  froze 
to  me  and  steered  me  through  without  an 
error.  There  was  a  wait  just  inside  when 
old  man  Connelly  balked  on  'em,  but 
after  that  everything  went  smooth.  About 
a  dozen  ringers  followed  us  in  and  stood 
around  rubberin'." 

"  Well,  what  did  you  have  to  do  ?  " 
inquired  Miller,  with  growing  interest. 

"I  done  nothin'  but  stick  to  Mame. 
All  but  us  four  got  planted  in  front  seats 
and  looked  on.  There  was  a  long  spiel 
by  the  high  guy  in  the  pulpit,  and  we 
shifted  two  or  three  times,  and  that 's  about 

100 


ARTIE 

all  I  know,  except  that  Tommy  agreed  to 
a  lot  o'  business  that's  enough  to  set  any 
boy  a-thinkin'  if  he  goes  against  the  game. 
Oh,  I  forgot.  It  was  right  in  the  dead 
serious  part,  just  when  Florence  and 
Tommy  put  their  lunch-hooks  together. 
1  They  're  off, '  I  whispered  to  Mame,  and 
she  came  purt'  near  bustin'  out  and  queerin' 
the  whole  act.  She  roasted  me  good  and 
hard  for  it  afterwards." 

"  What  did  you  do  after  the  ceremony  ?  " 

"  Say,  the  ceremony  was  just  the  first 
part  o'  the  show.  When  we  got  out  o' 
the  church  Florence's  mother  was  cryin* 
again  and  kissin'  everybody  except  me  and 
the  old  man.  We  ducked  on  her.  They 
loaded  up  the  carriages  again  and  all  but 
us  four  went  back  to  the  house.  We 
went  over  to  get  some  photographs." 

"  Oh,  I  see." 

"  Well,  I  should  say  so.  You  've  al 
ways  got  to  have  one  o'  them  bride-and- 
groom  pictures  in  the  house  whether 


ARTIE 

there's  anything  to  chew  or  not.  They 
wanted  me  and  Mame  to  go  along,  so  we 
rode  over  and  watched  'em.  Tommy  was 
all  right  by  that  time.  He  'd  got  his  nerve 
back,  and  he  was  real  Charley-horse, 
joshin'  me  and  Mame,  and  sayin  :  4  That 's 
all  right.  Some  time  I  '11  come  and  see 
you  two  hitched  up.'  Was  n't  that  a  raw 
deal,  huh  ?  There  I  was  —  I'd  never 
said  nothin'  to  Mame  about  the  marry 
deal,  and  he  was  takin'  it  for  granted  that 
everything  was  set.  He  was  too  new 
about  it.  I  never  did  like  his  work.  But 
Mame — say,  she  passed  it  off  smoother 'n 
silk.  She  just  give  him  the  ha-ha  and 
says  :  l  That  '11  be  all  right.  You  '11  get 
your  bid  when  the  shootin'  match  comes 
off/" 

"  She  did  n't  call  it  a  '  shooting- 
match'  ? " 

"  Naw  !  I  'm  just  tellin'  you,  you  know. 
Well,  they  got  their  pictures,  her  a  settin' 
down  with  the  flowers  in  her  lap  and  him 


ARTIE 

standin'  behind  with  one  of  his  fins  kind 
o'  hid  in  that  mosquito  bar.  Then  we  all 
drove  back  to  the  house  to  feed  our  faces." 
"  Oh,  you  had  a  wedding  dinner  ?  " 
"  Did  we  ?  That  was  where  I  cut 
loose.  That  was  where  I  got  good.  I 
made  a  speech,  just  for  a  kid,  you  know, 
but  it  started  'em  — all  but  that  cold  guy.  I 
did  n't  get  away  till  nine  o'clock.  We 
fed  an'  then  we  smoked  and  danced,  and 
old  man  Connelly  played  the  flute — rotten, 
thank  you.  Mame  was  the  star,  too 
Do  n't  forget  it.  Honest,  we  had  a 
good  time.  Them  people  up  there 's  goof* 
enough  for  me.  No  frills,  but  they  're  o v> 
the  level,  and  when  it  comes  down  to  C3'-^s 
they  're  just  as  good  as  a  lot  of  people  that 
make  a  bigger  front.  They  got  heai  s  in 
the  right  place.  It 's  like  a  man  out  at 
the  boat  club  says,  l  If  you  can 't  travel 
with  the  bell-cows,  why  stick  to  the  gang.' 
That 's  wise  talk,  too." 


103 


XII  < 

After  a  hurried  luncheon  at  one  of  the 
places  where  patrons  help  themselves  and 
compute  their  own  checks,  Miller  and 
Artie  took  a  walk  on  the  sunny  side  of 
the  street. 

Artie  was  not  as  talkative  as  usual,  and, 
as  Miller  seldom  did  more  than  encourage 
a  conversation  once  started,  the  two  saun 
tered  for  several  minutes  in  silence. 

Then  Artie  spoke  abruptly.  "  Miller," 
said  he,  "  I  got  a  hen  on." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  It 's  like  this.  Would  you  dally  with 
politics  if  you  thought  you  stood  to  win 
out  a  good  thing  ?" 

"  That  depends.  You  're  not  going  into 
politics,  are  you  ?  " 

"  They  Ve  got  me  entered,  but  I  don  't 
104 


THE  MAIN  SQUEEZE 


ARTIE 

know  whether  I  '11  start  or  not.  I  'm 
leary  of  it;  I  do  n't  mind  tellin'  you  those." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Well,  mebbe  you  won  't  understand. 
I  do  n't  like  to  feature  myself,  but  in  that 
precinct  where  I  hang  out  I  'm  purty 
strong.  I  'm  a  good  mixer  and  I  've  kind 
o'  got  next  to  the  live  ones,  and  if  I  do 
say  it  myself  I  think  there  's  a  lot  of  the 
boys  that  'd  vote  my  way  if  I  went  after 
'em  hard.  Do  you  know  Jim  Landon  ? " 

"  Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  He  's  the  main  squeeze  in  our  ward, 
or  any  way  he  used  to  be.  He  's  one  o5 
the  aldermen,  and  he  's  out  for  it  again, 
but  good  and  scared  that  he  can  't  win 
out.  He  come  tome  last  night  at  Hoover's 
cigar  store  and  give  me  a  big  talk.  What 
he  wants  is  for  me  to  come  to  the  front  for 
him  strong.  He  knows  I  've  got  a  drag 
in  the  precinct,  and  he  says  if  I  '11  jump 
in  and  do  what  I  can  for  him  he  '11  see 
that  I  got  a  good  job  in  the  town  offices, 
105 


ARTIE 

where  I  can  cop  out  about  twice  what  I  'm 
gettin'  now.  Of  course  I  'm  out  for  the 
long  green — but  I  do  n't  know  about  this 
deal." 

"  Does  he  stand  a  good  chance  of  being 
elected  ?  " 

"  That 's  what  keeps  me  guessin*.  Two 
years  ago  he  win  in  a  walk,  but  this  spring 
he  had  to  do  all  kinds  o'  funny  work  to 
get  the  nomination.  There 's  a  lot  o* 
people  in  the  ward  that 's  got  their  ham 
mers  out  and  they  're  knockin'  him  all 
they  can.  They  '11  put  a  crimp  in  him  if 
things  come  their  way." 

"  What 's  the  matter  with  him,  any 
way?" 

"  Oh,  they  kind  o'  think  he  's  done  too 
well.  Two  years  ago  he  was  on  his 
uppers  and  now  he 's  got  money  to  burn. 
There  's  some  o'  them  guys  out  in  our 
ward  can  't  make  out  how  it  is  that  Jimmy 
can  afford  to  buy  wine  at  four  bucks  a 
throw  when  he  's  only  gettin'  three  a  week 
106 


ARTIE 

out  o'  the  job.  They  say  they  can  *t 
stand  for  that  kind  o'  work,  and  so  there 's 
a  lot  o'  them  church  people  that  boosted 
him  two  years  ago  that 's  out  now  to  skin 
him.  They  've  put  up  a  new  guy  against 
him  and  he  's  makin'  a  nasty  fight." 

"  I  don  't  understand  yet  what  they  've 
got  against  your  man." 

"  W  'y,  they  're  crazy  at  him.  You  see 
two  years  ago  he  made  the  play  that  if 
they  put  him  in  he  was  goin'  down  to  the 
city  hall  and  change  the  whole  works. 
He  was  goin'  to  clean  the  streets  and  jack 
up  the  coppers  and  build  some  more  school- 
houses.  Jimmy  says  to  'em :  4  Throw 
things  my  way  and  I  '11  be  the  Johnny- 
on-the-spot  to  see  that  everything  's  on  the 
level.'  The  talk  was  so  good  it  went. 
Well,  you  know  what  happened  to  Jimmy 
when  he  got  down  there  with  them  Indians 
and  begin  to  see  easy  money.  He  had  n't 
been  in  on  the  whack-up  six  weeks  till  he 
was  wearing  one  o'  them  bicycle  lamps  in 
107 


ARTIE 

his  neck-tie  and  put  tin'  in  all  his  time  at 
the  city  hall  waitin'  for  the  easy  marks  to 
come  along  and  throw  up  their  hands." 

"  I  see.  He  turned  out  to  be  a  bood- 
ler,  eh  ?  " 

41 1  do  n't  see  no  way  o'  gettin'  past  it. 
I  like  Jimmy.  He  's  one  o'  them  boys 
that  never  has  cold  feet  and  there  's  nothin' 
too  good  for  a  friend,  but,  by  gee,  I  guess 
when  it  comes  to  doin'  the  nice,  genteel 
dip  he  belongs  with  the  smoothest  of  'em. 
And  he  learned  it  so  quick,  too.  Ooh  !  " 

"  Artie,  that  kind  of  a  man  is  a  thief 
and  that 's  all  you  can  make  out  of  it,'* 
said  Miller,  with  presbyterian  severity. 

"  Mebbe  that  ain't  no  lie,  neither.  He 
would  n  't  go  out  with  a  piece  o'  lead  pipe 
or  do  any  o'  that  strong-arm  work,  but  if 
Jimmy  saw  a  guy  puttin'  dough  into 
his  pocket  he  would  n't  let  on.  You 
would  n't  have  to  feed  him  no  knock 
out  drops  to  make  him  take  the  coin,  I 
guess.  But  the  nerve  o'  the  boy !  He 
108 


ARTIE 

won  't  never  let  on  that  he  's  handled  any 
crooked  money.  When  he  was  staked  to 
the  office  he  did  n't  have  a  sou  markee 
except  what  was  tied  up  in  a  bum  little 
grocery  store.  Now  he  's  got  too  strong 
to  tend  store  and  his  brother-in-law  's 
runnin'  it.  He  do  n't  do  a  thing  in  the 
world  except  travel  around  with  some  more 
o'  them  handy  boys  and  lay  for  jack-pots. 
And  the  talk  he  gives  you  !  Mamma ! 
He  's  better  'n  any  o'  them  shell-workers 
that  used  to  graft  out  at  the  gover'ment 
pier.  W'y,  he  can  set  down  and  show  you 
dead  easy  that  he  done  all  that  funny  votin' 
because  it  was  a  good  thing  for  the  workin' 
boys.  Sure  !  That 's  why  he  wants  to  stay 
in,  too  —  so  as  the  tax-payers  won  't  get 
the  short  end  of  it.  On  the  square,  if  I 
had  his  face  I  'd  start  out  sellin'  them  gold 
bricks  to  Jaspers." 

"  You  do  n't  mean  to  say  that  he  has 
any  chance  of  being  elected  again  ?  " 

"  Oh,  he  's  got  a  chance  all  right.  He  's 
109 


ARTIE 

gone  right  down  into  his  kick  and  dug  up 
the  long  green  and  he  's  puttin*  it  out  at 
the  booze  joints.  Some  o'  the  saloons 
he 's  overlooked  for  a  year  or  two,  and 
he  's  got  to  make  good  with  'em  to  keep 
'em  from  knockin'.  But  he  '11  have  the 
whole  push  rootin'  for  him,  and,  then,  of 
course,  there  's  a  lot  more  o'  people  say  : 
4  Oh,well,  Jim 's  a  good  fellow  and  he 's  been 
white  with  me,  and  even  if  he  does  sand 
bag  a  few  o'  them  rich  blokies  what 's  the 
diff? '  I  think  he  's  got  a  chance,  all  right. 
I  would  n't  like  to  start  in  and  plug  his 
game  and  then  find  myself  on  a  dead  one." 

"  Artie,  if  you  take  my  advice  you  '11 
keep  out  of  it.  What  do  you  want  with 
a  political  job  ?  " 

"  Well,  for  one  thing  I  want  to  get  a 
bank-roll  as  soon  as  I  can  and  this  place 
he  's  holdin'  out  pays  good  money." 

"  Yes,  and  even  if  you  got  it  you  'd  be 
out  again  in  a  year  or  two  and  worse  off 
than  ever.  Besides,  I  would  n't  help 
no 


ARTIE 

elect  a  man  who  sold  his  influence."  Mil 
ler  spoke  with  considerable  feeling. 

"As  for  that,"  resumed  Artie,  "you 
need  n't  think  I  like  Jim  Landon's  way 
o'  gettin'  stuff.  It 's  just  like  this,  though. 
He  's  gone  out  of  his  way  two  or  three 
times  to  do  things  for  me  and  fixed  me  for 
a  pass  to  Milwaukee  once,  and,  of  course, 
them  things  count.  Everybody  's  shakm' 
him  down  this  spring,  and  if  he  gets  the 
gaff  he  '11  be  flat  on  his  back.  If  I  did  n't 
know  him  I  'd  be  against  him  hard.  But 
you  do  n't  like  to  throw  down  a  man  that 's 
treated  you  right,  do  you  ? " 

"  I  've  never  been  in  politics,  but  I 
should  say  that  no  young  man  could  have 
any  excuse  for  voting  for  a  boodler. " 

"  Say,  now  listen.  It  comes  election 
day,  see  ?  I  go  in  the  place  and  get  in  one 
o'  them  little  private  rooms  and  I  vote  for 
this  stranger.  Then  I  come  out  and  meet 
Jimmy.  He  puts  out  the  hand  and  I  go 
and  get  a  cigar  with  him  and  do  the  friend- 
iii 


ARTIE 

ship  act.  Would  n  't  that  be  purty  coarse 
work?" 

"  It  would  n't  be  any  worse  than  his 
promising  to  be  honest  and  then  turning 
out  a  boodler  "  said  Miller. 

"  Well,  I  guess  I  '11  pass  up  the  whole 
thing.  Come  to  size  it  up,  that  ward  's 
goin'  to  be  floatin'  in  beer  the  next  two 
weeks,  and  I  'm  not  stuck  on  standin' 
around  with  them  boys  that  smoke  them 
hay-fever  torches.  For  a  man  that  do  n't 
want  to  be  a  rounder,  it 's  too  much  like 
sportin'  life.  I  did  n't  think  you  'd  O.  K. 
the  scheme.  I  '11  just  tell  Jimmy  that  I  'm 
out  of  it.  That 's  an  awful  wise  move, 
too.  I  guess  an  easier  way  to  get  that 
roll  'd  be  to  borrow  a  nice  kit  o'  tools  an^ 
go  'round  blowin'  safes." 


CtAUDIE 


XIII 

"Where's  he  at?"  asked  the  over 
grown  messenger  boy,  who  had  clumped 
slowly  along  the  hallway  and  who  now 
entered  the  room,  leaving  the  door  open 
behind  him. 

"  Ain  't  he  good  ?  "  asked  Artie,  turn 
ing  to  Miller,  who  was  gazing  at  the  mes 
senger  with  a  look  of  pained  surprise  in 
his  eyes. 

"  Where  *s  he  at  ?  "  repeated  the  mes 
senger  boy. 

He  seemed  rather  large  and  old  to  be  in 
the  uniform,  for  there  was  a  scrabble  of 
soft  beard  on  his  chin.  His  face  and 
hands  appeared  to  have  been  treated  with 
fine  coal-dust,  his  cap  leaned  forward  on 
one  side  of  his  head  and  whenever  he 
113 


ARTIE 

spoke  he  had  to  make  new  disposition  of 
a  large  amount  of  chewing  tobacco  which 
he  carried  in  his  mouth. 

When  he  asked  "  Where  's  he  at  ?  "  he 
pronounced  it  "  where  *ce,"  and  in  all 
his  subsequent  talk  he  gave  the  "  s "  a 
soft  and  hissing  sound  well  prolonged,  to 
the  evident  enjoyment  of  Artie  and  the 
mild  wonderment  of  Miller. 

"  Where  's  who  at  ? "  demanded  Artie, 
adopting  a  frown  and  a  harsh  manner. 

cc  W'y,  t'e  four-eyed  nobs  dat  sent  me 
out  on  t'e  Sout'  Side." 

"  Are  you  the  same  little  boy  ? 
Would  n't  that  frost  you,  though,  Mil 
ler  ?  This  is  little  Bright-eyes  that  took 
the  note  for  Hall." 

"  Aw,  what 's  eatin'  you  ?  "  asked  the 
boy,  giving  a  warlike  curl  to  the  corner 
of  his  mouth. 

"  Oh,  ow !  listen  to  that.  I  '11  bet 
you  're  the  toughest  boy  that  ever  hap 
pened.  What  you  been  doin'  all  day  — 
"4 


ARTIE 

playin'  marbles    for  keeps   or   standin'  in 
front  o'  one  o'  them  dime  museeums  ?  " 

"  Aw,  say  j  you  t'ink  you  're  fly.  Dat 
young  feller  sent  me  all  t'e  way  to  forty- 
t'ree  ninety-t'ree  Callamet  av'noo.  I 
could  n't  get  back  no  sooner." 

"  Who  was  it  the  note  was  to  ? " 

"  His  rag,  I  guess." 

"  Oh-h-h-h  !  His  rag  !  What  do  you 
think  o'  that,  Miller  ?  Ain  't  this  boy  a 
bird  !  Can  you  beat  him  ?  Can  you  tie 
him  ?  Boy,  you  're  all  right." 

"  So  are  you — dat  is,  from  y'r  head  up." 

"  An'  the  feet  down,  huh  ?  You  're 
one  o'  them  *  Hully  chee,  Chonny,'  boys, 
ain  't  you  ?  You  're  so  tough  they  could  n't 
dent  you  with  an  axe." 

"  Is  dat  so-o-o-o  ?  "  asked  the  boy,  with 
a  frightful  escape  of  "  s  "  and  a  glare  such 
as  he  must  have  used  to  terrify  all  the 
smaller  boys  at  the  call  station. 

"  If  I  was  as  tough  as  you  are  I  'd  be 
afraid  o'  myself,  on  the  level." 
"5 


ARTIE 

"  You  t'ink  you  sre  havin'  sport  wit'  me, 
do  n't  you  ?  I  seen  a  lot  o'  dem  funny 
mugs  before  dis." 

"  W'y,  Claudie,  I  would  n't  try  to  josh 
you.  I  think  you  're  a  nice,  clean  boy. 
Ain  *t  you  goin'  to  take  off  your  gloves  ?  " 

Miller  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and 
howled  with  laughter. 

"  I  beg  y'r  pardon,  Claudie,"  continued 
Artie.  "  I  thought  them  was  gloves  you 
had  on.  Gee,  is  them  your  mils  ?  You  're 
a  brunette,  ain  't  you  ?  " 

The  messenger  boy  had  been  somewhat 
taken  back  by  the  allusion  to  his  "  gloves," 
but  he  recovered  and  said,  still  gazing  at 
Artie :  "  S-s-ay,  you  're  havin'  all  kinds 
o'  fun  wit'  me,  ain  't  you  ?  Well,  w'at  you 
—  anyt'ing  you  say  cuts  no  ice  wit'  me." 

"  You  'd  better  smoke  up  or  you  '11 
go  out,"  suggested  Artie.  "  You  was  a 
little  slow  on  the  come-back  that  last 
time.  Get  on  to  him,  Miller ;  he  's  lookin' 
a  hole  in  me." 

u* 


ARTIE 

"  He  has  a  bad  eye,"  said  Miller. 

"  Yes,  and  as  the  guy  says  on  the  stage, 
I  do  n't  like  his  other  one  very  well, 
neither.  I  '11  bet  he  'd  be  a  nasty  boy 
in  a  fight.  I  'd  hate  to  run  against 
him  late  at  night.  Them  messenger  boys 
is  bad  people.  Guess  what  they  train 
on." 

"  I  do  n't  know,"  said  Miller. 

"  Cocoanut  pie.  That  ain't  no  fairy  tale, 
neither.  Cocoanut  pie  and  milk,  that 's 
what  they  live  on.  I  '11  bet  Claudie  here 
with  the  face  has  got  about  three  cocoanut 
pies  wadded  into  him  now.  How  about 
it,  Claudie  ? " 

"  Say,"  began  the  messenger  boy,  nod 
ding  his  head  slowly  to  emphasize  his 
remarks,  "  I  'd  give  a  t'ousand  dollars  if  I 
had  your  ga!V 

"  That  '11  be  all  right.  Keep  the  change. 
By  the  way,  old  chap,  are  you  lookin'  for 
any  one  ? " 

This  was  another  surprise  for  the  boy. 
117 


ARTIE 

44  Yes-s-s,  I  'm  lookin'  for  some  one," 
he  replied. 

"Who  it  is  is  it?" 

"  W'y,  t'e  fellow  dat  wears  de  windows 
in  his  face.  I  got  a  note  here  for  him," 
and  he  pulled  it  out  of  his  pocket. 

44  Looks  like  you  've  been  chewin'  it. 
That 's  his  desk  over  there.  He  got  dead 
tired  o'  waitin'  for  you  and  went  out  to 
tell  the  police  you  was  lost.  I  think 
they  're  draggin'  the  lake  for  you  now." 

41  Aw,  go  ahead  ;  dat 's  right.  Dere  's 
lots  o'  you  blokies  t'ink  you  can  have  fun 
wit'  us  kids." 

44  Get  next  to  the  walk,  Miller ;  get  on, 
get  on  !  "  exclaimed  Artie,  as  the  messen 
ger  boy  moved  over  toward  Hall's  desk. 
On  the  way  he  stopped  for  a  moment  and 
spat  copiously  into  a  waste-basket. 

"He  walks  like  he  had  gravel  in  his 
shoes,  do  n't  he  ?  "  said  Artie.  "  Look  at 
the  way  he  holds  them  shoulders.  Ain  't 
he  tough, though  ?  " 

118 


ARTIE 

"  Some  day  you  '11  get  too  gay  an'  a 
guy  '11  give  you  a  funny  poke,"  remarked 
the  messenger  boy,  as  he  slowly  settled 
into  young  Mr.  Hall's  chair  and  again 
directed  what  was  supposed  to  be  a  ter 
rorizing  stare  at  Artie. 

"  What  did  I  tell  you,  Miller  ?  Claudie  's 
a  scrapper.  He  'd  just  as  soon  give  a  guy 
a  c  tump  in  de  teet '  as  look  at  him." 

The  boy  gave  a  sniff  of  contempt  and 
began  an  examination  of  the  papers  on 
Mr.  Hall's  desk,  picking  up  some  of  the 
letters  and  studying  them,  his  lips  going 
through  the  motions  of  reading.  Artie  sat, 
with  face  illumined,  and  watched  the  boy. 
He  was  evidently  fascinated  by  the  display 
of  supreme  impudence. 

"  Ain't  there  nothin'  we  can  do  for  you  ?  " 
he  asked.  "  Miller  's  got  some  private 
letters  you  can  read  when  you  get  through 
over  there." 

"Aw,  go  chase  yourself,"  replied  the 
bojr. 

119 


ARTIE 

"  Well,  Claudie,  I  'vc  seen  a  good  many 
o'  you  boys,  but  you  're  the  best  ever/' 
remarked  Artie.  "  If  Hall 's  tryin'  to  win 
out  any  South  Side  lady  friend  I  do  n't  see 
as  he  could  do  better  than  send  you  out 
with  the  note.  I  think  you  Ml  be  liked 
wherever  you  go.  Gee  !  you  Ve  got  that 
icehouse  stare  o'  yours  down  pat.  If 
you  keep  on  springin'  that  you  Ml  scare 
somebody  one  o'  these  days." 

"Aw,  let  go,"  said  the  boy  in  evident  dis 
gust.  "  When  do  I  get  to  see  t'e  fellow  dat 
sets  here?  Won't  one  o'  youse  pay  me?" 

"  Miller,  pay  the  boy  and  let  him  go. 
He  ain  't  had  any  cocoanut  pie  for  nearly 
an  hour  now,  have  you,  Willie  —  er  — 
Claudie,  I  mean.  What  is  your  name, 
Claudie  ? " 

"  What 's  it  to  you  ?  " 

"Nothin'    much,    only    I    wanted    to 
know.      You  've  kind  o'    won    me  out. 
Here  !      Do  n't    move  !      I  Ml    bring    the 
waste-basket  over  to  you." 
120 


ARTIE 

At  that  moment  young  Mr.  Hall  came 
in  and  said :  "Ah,  boy,  have  you  that 
note  for  me  ?  " 

"  S-s-s-ure.  Where  you  been  at  ? 
You  're  helva  duck,  to  keep  a  kid  waitin' 
here.  You  Ve  got  'o  pay  me  ten  cents 
more." 

"  Do  n't  be  saucy,"  said  young  Mr. 
Hall,  severely. 

"  Aw,  rats  !  " 

"  You  ain  't  mad,  are  you,  Claudie  ?  " 
asked  Artie,  as  the  boy  laboriously  moved 
toward  the  door,  making  noises  with  his 
feet. 

41  Oh-h-h,  but  you  t'ink  you  're  a  kid- 
der,"  replied  the  boy,  with  a  sour  smile. 

"  Look  out !  You  '11  step  on  one  o' 
your  feet  there  in  a  minute." 

Then  they  heard  him  go  clump-clump- 
clump  out  through  the  hall  and  away. 

*4  Confound  such  a  boy  !  "  exclaimed 
young  Mr.  Hall. 


121 


ARTIE 

"  Oh,  he  's  ail  right,"  said  Artie,  «  only 
you  ain  't  used  to  his  ways." 

"  He 's  tough  enough,"  suggested  Miller. 

"  Yes,"  said  Artie,  "  I  would  n't  be  as 
tough  as  he  thinks  he  is  — not  for  a  million 
dollars." 


THE  PRESIDENT 


XIV 

"  Let 's  walk  out  a  little  while  and  let 
the  wind  blow  on  us,"  said  Artie,  when 
the  conversation  had  begun  to  lag. 

He  had  found  Mamie  on  the  front  stoop 
with  her  father  and  mother.  It  was  the 
first  warm  night  of  the  early  spring,  and 
the  tired  people  all  along  the  street  had 
come  into  the  open  air,  the  older  ones 
to  sit  around  the  doorways  and  the  chil 
dren  to  romp  on  the  sidewalks. 

Gas  lamps  are  far  apart  in  that  street 
and  the  houses  are  much  alike  —  two 
stories  high,  many  of  them  having  the 
high  stoop  that  leads  steeply  from  the 
sidewalk  to  the  upper  story.  A  stranger 
might  have  had  some  trouble  in  finding 
the  Carroll  house,  but  Artie  knew  the 
neighborhood.  He  collided  with  the  chil- 
123 


ARTIE 

dren  and  said  :  "  Do  n't  run  me  down, 
kids."  There  was  a  carnation  in  his  but 
tonhole  and  he  clicked  a  walking-stick  on 
the  uneven  sidewalk.  The  smell  of  pipe 
smoke,  the  balm  of  the  cooler  evening  air 
and  the  awakened  cheerfulness  of  the 
street,  which  he  had  never  before  seen  so 
lively,  harmonized  with  his  own  feelings. 
There  was  a  spring  song  going  in  his  heart, 
and  when  he  came  to  the  Carroll  stoop  it 
strove  to  find  utterance  in  words. 

"  Ain  't  this  a  James-dandy  of  a  night? " 
he  asked,  removing  his  hat.  "I  see  all 
you  good  people  are  takin*  it  in." 

Mamie  arose  to  greet  him,  and  said 
something  in  a  low  tone  to  her  father. 
Artie  knew  what  it  was. 

"  Stay  where  you  are,  Mr.  Carroll," 
said  he.  "  I  '11  grab  off  a  place  here  at 
the  end." 

"  Father  was  so  warm  he  just  took  off 
his  coat  and  came  out  here  to  enjoy  his 
pipe,"  said  Mamie,  in  way  of  explanation. 
124 


ARTIE 

*'  I  do  n't  blame  him.  Would  n't  you 
rather  have  a  cigar,  Mr.  Carroll  ?" 

"  Well,  I  do  n't  mind.  Have  y' 
another  ? " 

"  Sure  thing.  You  need  n't  be  afraid 
o'  that  one.  It  's  got  real  tobacco  in  it. 
How  are  you  to-night,  Mrs.  Carroll  ?  " 

"  I  'm  all  right  now,  but  this  afternoon  I 
thought  I  'd  keel  over.  Was  n't  it  warm?" 

"  I  should  say  yes." 

Then  there  followed  some  more  com 
monplace  remarks  about  the  weather,  and 
at  the  first  oppportunity  Artie  suggested 
taking  a  walk. 

While  Mamie  was  in  the  house  putting 
on  her  hat  Artie  said  :  "  You  've  got  lots 
o'  kids  up  this  way." 

"  The  German  family  in  the  next  house 
has  nine,"  replied  Mrs.  Carroll.  "  If 
father  could  'a'  caught  one  o'  them  tow- 
headed  young  'uns  this  morning  there  'd 
only  been  eight  left.  The  boy  built  a 
bonfire  right  up  against  our  fence." 
135 


ARTIE 

"  He  could  run  too  fast  for  me,"  said 
Mr.  Carroll.  "  Oh,  but  he 's  a  terror. 
We  have  some  great  youngsters  around 
here.  Do  you  want  to  get  by  me,  Mamie  ? 
Look  at  the  new  hat  on  her." 

Artie  laughed  and  Mamie  gave  her 
father  a  playful  slap  on  the  arm. 

"  It 's  a  hun,"  remarked  Artie. 

As  he  followed  Mamie  down  the  steps 
and  away  toward  the  corner  he  somehow 
felt,  because  of  the  silence  behind,  that 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carroll  were  watching  him 
and  asking  themselves  whether  he  was 
what  he  pretended  to  be.  On  more  than 
one  occasion  they  had  shown  a  liking  for 
him.  Certainly  they  had  trusted  him.  He 
realized  keenly,  and  for  the  first  time,  that 
they  had  been  kind  to  him  beyond  anything 
he  deserved,  and  with  this  realization  came 
the  resolve  that  he  would  never  do  any-' 
thing  to  cause  them  to  change  their 
opinions. 

"  I  'm  afraid  the  old  folks  '11  think  we  're 
126 


ARTIE 

givin'  'em  the  shake,"  said  he,  as  Mamie 
slipped  her  arm  within  his. 

"No,  no.     They  do  n't  mind." 

"  I  guess  they  're  wise  enough  to  tum 
ble  to  it  that  I  do  n't  come  rubberin' 
around  this  neighborhood  every  two  or 
three  nights  just  to  see  them" 

Mamie  laughed  and  put  an  added  press 
ure  on  his  arm.  The  gas-lights  leaped  into 
balls  of  flame  and  Artie  felt  himself  rising 
into  the  air.  What  more  could  he  ask  ? 
And  yet,  as  they  passed  the  corner,  he  was 
beaming  foolishly  and  had  lost  his  voice. 

He  had  something  to  tell  Mamie  — 
something  which  would  be  significant ; 
something  to  warn  her  of  the  supreme 
question  and  prepare  her  for  it. 

They  had  come  into  the  business  street, 
where  the  trolley  cars  ran  and  the  light 
was  plentiful. 

"  A  little  more  weather  like  this  and 
we  '11  be  hittin'  the  park,"  he  observed. 

"  I  '11  be  glad,"  she  replied. 
127 


ARTIE 

They  walked  in  silence  for  few  mo 
ments  and  then  he  said  :  "  Mame,  I  'vc 
got  some  good  news." 

"  For  me  ?  " 

"Well,  I  s'pose- — you  may  be  glad  to 
hear  it." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  got  a  boost  in  my  pay." 

«  Oh,  that 's  lovely." 

"  I  'm  gettin'  twenty  a  week  now." 

"  Now  I  'm  jealous.  All  I  get  is 
eight." 

"  Say,  Mame,  I  'm  sore  to  see  you 
workin'  at  all." 

"  I  had  to  do  something  when  I  got  out 
of  school,  and  they  did  n't  need  me  around 
the  house.  I  would  n't  mind  it  if  I  had 
a  nicer  man  to  work  for." 

"Who  is  the  main  guy  up  at  your  place 
—  the  pie-face  I  spoke  to  the  day  I  come 
up  to  see  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  that 's  him." 

"I got  it  in  good  and  hard  for  them  fel- 

138 


ARTIE 

lows.  Do  you  know,  Mame,  this  town 's  full 
of  a  lot  o'  two-by-four  dubs  that 's  got  into 
purty  fair  jobs  and  it 's  made  'em  so  swelled 
up  that  you  want  to  take  a  crack  at  one  of 
'em  the  minute  you  see  him.  I  '11  bet 
that  guy  up  in  your  place  do  n't  know 
nothin'  on  earth  except  how  to  hold  down 
his  measly  job,  and  he  got  that  doin'  all 
the  mean  work  around  the  place.  It  does 
me  lots  o'  good  to  call  one  o'  them  proud 
boys  down.  If  I  ever  go  up  there  again 
and  he  makes  any  funny  play  at  me  I  '11 
come  back  at  him  so  strong  that  he  won  't 
know  what  landed  on  him.  Them  fellows 
is  counterfeits.  They  have  to  put  on  a 
horrible  front  so  as  to  cover  up  what  they 
do  n  't  know.  I  never  see  one  o'  them 
fellows  yet  that  was  n't  a  four- flush. 
Take  a  guy  that  bellers  at  kids  and  bluffs 
women  and  put  him  up  against  a  man  of 
his  own  weight  and  he 's  a  cur.  If  I  ever 
put  up  my  hands  against  that  fellow  he  'd 
run  clear  to  the  roof  to  get  away," 
129 


ARTIE 

Mame  laughed  and  said :  "  You  've  got 
him  sized  up  just  right." 

"  I  'm  workin'  for  a  square  fellow," 
continued  Artie.  "  He  's  all  right.  I  used 
to  give  him  all  kinds  o'  hot  and  cold  roasts, 
but  since  he  went  to  the  front  for  me  and 
got  my  salary  whooped  I  've  got  to  be  with 
him.  I  '11  tell  you,  Mame,  he  's  this  kind. 
If  you  'd  go  up  to  Morton  to-morrow  and 
say:  'How  about  it;  can  you  take  hold 
and  run  the  earth  for  a  year  ? '  he  'd 
put  on  one  o'  them  dead  easy  smiles  and 
say  he  could  do  it  without  turnin'  a  hair. 
He  's  got  the  nerve  to  tackle  anything. 
He  do  n't  know  nothin',  but  he  do  n't 
need  to  as  long  as  he  can  make  suckers 
think  he's  all  right.  There's  Miller 
I  've  told  you  so  much  about.  He  knows 
more  about  the  business  than  Morton  ever 
wanted  to  know,  but  Morton  draws  more 
stuff  just  because  Miller  ain  't  got  the  face. 
So  I  've  got  wise  to  this  fact :  No  matter 


130 


ARTIE 

what  you  've  got  in  your  hand  play  it  as  if 
you  had  a  royal  flush  for  a  bosom  hold 
out.  I  weaken  on  no  proposition.  If  they 
wanted  me  to  be  president  o'  the  whole 
shootin'  match,  I  'd  jump  in,  grow  some 
side-whiskers  and  put  up  as  tall  a  con 
game  as  that  old  stiff  we  Ve  got  down 
there  now.  His  office  hours  is  from  1 1:00 
to  1 1:30  .and  he  ain't  nothin'  but  a  ham- 
rester  when  he  is  there." 

Artie  had  become  warmed  up,  and  was 
walking  fast.  They  stopped  at  a  corner 
to  allow  a  drove  of  bicyclers  to  pass  by, 
and  Artie  saw  the  red  globes  of  a  drug 
store  across  the  street. 

"  Let 's  have  some  o'  the  cold  stuff, 
Mame,"  said  he,  and  he  led  her  over  to 
the  place. 

"Give  the  lady  some  strawberry  be 
cause  it 's  red,"  said  he  to  the  clerk. 

"  No,  you  '11  not,"  said  she.  "  I  want 
chocolate  ice  cream." 


ARTIE 

"  Well,  professor,  you  can  make  mine 
the  same.  Be  a  good  fellow,  too,  when 
it  comes  to  droppin'  in  the  ice  cream." 

"  Oh,  we  put  in  good  measure,"  said 
the  red-headed  boy,  as  he  dug  into  the 
freezer. 

"  That  '§  right.  I  think  you  '11  do  a 
nice  little  business  on  this  corner." 


XV 

u  I  do  n't  know  about  this,  Artie,"  said 
Miller,  as  they  alighted  from  the  trolley 
car.  "  I  have  no  business  coming  out 
here  with  you." 

41  There  you  go  again ! "  exclaimed  Artie. 
"  Ain  't  I  told  you  that  anybody  I  bring 
stands  ace-high  ?  W'y,  I  've  been  toutin' 
you  to  Mame  till  she  's  dead  crazy  to  see 
you.  Do  n't  go  to  weak'nin'  on  me  at 
this  stage  o'  the  game.  You  're  just  as 
welcome  there  as  you  are  in  the  street." 

"  I  dare  say,"  replied  Miller,  with  a 
nervous  little  laugh,  "  but  I  think  you  '11 
have  to  do  most  of  the  talking." 

"  Let  go  of  that,  too.     You  won  't  get 

no   frozen    face  at    this    place    that  I  'm 

steerin'  you  against.     Just  cut  loose  the 

same  as  if  you  was  at  home.     I  guess  you 

'33 


ARTIE 

ain  *t  goin'  to  find  no  cracked  ice  in  the 
chairs,  and,  as  I  've  told  you  time  and 
again,  this  girl  ain  't  stuck  on  frills.  She 
comes  purty  near  bein'  able  to  size  up  a 
guy  for  what  he  's  worth,  and  you  and 
her  '11  get  along  all  right." 

Notwithstanding  these  hopeful  assur 
ances,  Miller  was  decidedly  nervous  as 
they  approached  the  Carroll  house.  It 
was  only  after  much  persuasion  on  the 
part  of  Artie  that  he  had  been  induced  to 
come  along  and  now  that  they  were  so 
near  the  place  his  apprehensions  grew. 
Miller  knew  a  great  deal,  but  he  had 
never  learned  how  to  keep  down  his  pulse 
and  temperature  when  he  was  in  the  pres 
ence  of  a  young  woman. 

"  Remember,"  said  Artie,  as  he  pre 
ceded  Miller  up  the  steps.  "  Do  n't  be 
leary  about  cuttin'  in.  Just  play  you 
owned  the  house." 

Mamie  opened  the  door  and  said  : 
"  Hello,  there,"  and  then,  when  she  saw 
134 


ARTIE 

that  Artie  ivas  not  alone,  she  gave  a  small 
and  startled  "  Oh  !  " 

"  Peel  your  coat  and  put  it  any  old 
place,"  said  Artie  to  Miller. 

"  Why,  Artie,"  said  she,  reprovingly. 

They  were  detained  in  the  hallway  for 
a  few  moments.  Artie  felt  that  perhaps 
he  should  have  presented  Miller  at  the 
moment  of  entering,  but  he  preferred  to 
wait  until  they  reached  the  front  room, 
where  there  was  a  full  sweep  of  space  at 
his  command. 

The  critical  moment  having  arrived, 
Mamie  having  retreated  until  she  stood 
beneath  the  chandelier  and  Miller  having 
come  in  from  the  hall  and  placed  him 
self,  stolid  and  upright,  beside  one  of  the 
plush  chairs,  Artie  said :  "  Mame,  I  want 
you  to  shake  hands  with  my  friend  Mr. 
Miller,  the  best  ever.  Miller,  this  is  little 
Mame,  the  girl  that  makes  'em  open  all 
the  windows  to  look  at  her  when  she  goes 
along  the  street." 

135 


ARTIE 

"  I  'm  so  glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Miller," 
said  Mamie.  "  I  *ve  heard  so  much  about 
you." 

She  extended  her  hand  and  as  Miller 
grasped  it  and  mumbled  something,  Artie 
very  facetiously  remarked,  "  Take  your 
corners." 

Now,  if  this  was  his  plan  for  causing 
Miller  to  feel  perfectly  at  home,  it  was  not 
an  entire  success.  Miller  laughed  rather 
awkwardly  and  backed  into  a  chair,  where 
he  sat  and  smiled  in  a  fixed  and  helpless 
condition  until  Mamie  came  to  his  rescue. 

"  I  suppose  you  've  learned  by  this 
time  that  you  must  n't  pay  any  attention 
to  what  Artie  says,"  she  began.  "  He 
does  n't  mean  half  he  says." 

"  Here !  How  about  this  ? "  interrupted 
Artie.  "  You  ain  't  goin'  to  begin  knockin' 
the  first  thing.  Pay  no  attention  to  what 
she  says  about  me,  Miller.  Just  copper 
it.  I  think  she  's  got  her  roastin'  clothes 
on  to-night." 

136 


ARTIE 

"  I  'm  afraid  I  '11  have  to  believe  a 
good  many  things  that  he  has  told  me 
about  you,"  said  Miller,  with  an  effort. 

"  What  has  he  been  telling  you  ? " 

"  Slow  up  there  a  little.  Be  careful," 
said  Artie. 

"  He  said  a  great  many  complimentary 
things  about  you,"  persisted  Miller. 

"Who, me?"  demanded  Artie.  "What 
are  you  tryin'  to  do  —  string  the  poor  girl  ? 
All  I  ever  told  you  about  Mame  was  the 
time  she  shook  me  for  that  Indian.  I  '11 
tell  you  about  her,  Miller.  I  'm  good  old 
car-fare  and  show-tickets  when  there 's 
nobody  playin'  against  me,  but  as  soon  as 
any  other  guy  gets  in  the  game  she  puts 
me  off  on  the  sub  bench.  I  ain  't  in  the 
play  at  all.  You  're  here  to-night.  Am  I 
in  it  ?  Well,  I  should  say  nit." 

Miller  laughed  good-naturedly  and  Ma 
mie  passed  off  into  an  attack  of  giggles 
from  which  she  could  not  easily  recover. 

"  You   do  n't  expect  me  to  pay  much 


ARTIE 

attention  to  you  when  there 's  any  one 
else  around,  do  you  ?  "  she  asked  with  the 
merest  suggestion  of  a  wink  at  Miller. 

"  Certainly  not.  I  'rh  supposed  to  be 
playin'  a  thinkin'  part  to-night.  I  ain't 
really  in  the  cast  at  all.  I  think  I  come 
on  with  a  spear  in  the  third  act." 

"  You  've  heard  him  talk  like  that  be 
fore,  have  n't  you  ?  "  asked  Mamie  of 
Miller. 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  've  become  accustomed 
to  it." 

"  Oh,  what  a  swipe  ?  "  exclaimed  Artie. 
"  I  think  I  '11  have  to  lay  quiet  for  awhile 
after  that.  What  are  you  doin',  Miller  ; 
turnin'  against  me — takin'  her  part?" 

"  My  goodness,  Artie,  what  did  he  say 
that  was  n't  all  right  ?  "  asked  Mamie. 

u  There  you  are,  Miller.  She  's  huntin' 
a  scrap  because  I  spoke  cross  to  you.  I 
told  you  I  would  n't  be  in  it  after  I  brought 
you  up  here." 

"  Artie,  I  want  you  to  behave.  I  'm 
138 


ARTIE 

going  to  ask  Mr.  Miller  all  about  how  you 
carry  on  at  the  office." 

"  Oh,  his  conduct  is  very  good,"  Miller 
hastened  to  say. 

"  That 's  what  you  boys  always  say 
about  each  other.  Does  he  ever  work  ?  " 

"  Do  I  ever  work  !  "  Artie  interrupted. 
"  Do  you  think  I  could  travel  on  my 
shape  ?  She  ought  to  see  us  doin'  the 
slave  act  there  the  first  of  every  month ; 
eh,  Miller  ? " 

"  We  have  to  work  hard  enough,"  said 
Miller. 

"  He  's  told  me  all  this,"  said  Mamie  ; 
"  but  he  c  kids '  so  much,  as  he  calls  it, 
that  I  do  n't  know  when  he  's  telling  the 
truth  and  when  he  is  n't.  Why,  do  you 
know,  Mr.  Miller,  the  first  time  I  met 
him,  he  told  me  his  name  was  something- 
or-other  and  that  he  was  on  the  Board  of 
Trade  —  oh,  the  worst  string  of  stuff  you 
ever  heard." 

Miller  had   to   laugh,  because   he  had 


ARTIE 

already   been    told    the    whole    story    by 
Artie. 

"  Did  you  believe  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Believe  it  ?  I  should  say  not.  He 
told  me  the  worst  whoppers  you  ever 
heard  about  how  much  money  he  made 
and  lost  on  the  Board  of  Trade.  What 's 
more,  just  to  show  you  the  cheek  of  that 
boy,  the  fellow  that  he  had  come  over  and 
introduce  him  I  never  saw  before  in  all 
my  life." 

Miller  had  to  laugh  in  earnest.  Artie 
had  told  him  the  same  story,  but  had 
claimed  that  Mamie  believed  everything 
she  heard. 

For  once  Artie  was  red,  embarrassed 
and  at  a  loss  to  reply.  He  smiled  feebly 
when  Miller  laughed,  and  then  he  man 
aged  to  say :  "  I  guess  you  faked  up 
some  purty  good  fairy  yarns  yourself  that 
night." 

"  I  was  trying  to  keep  up  with  you," 
said  Mamie,  gaily. 

140 


ARTIE 

Artie's  grin  widened  and  he  glanced 
significantly  at  Miller. 

"What  did  I  tell  you?"  he  asked. 
"  Ain  't  she  a  child  wonder  ?  " 

And  by  that  time  Miller  was  well 
enough  acquainted  to  join  in  and  talk  on 
many  topics. 

It  was  after  ten  o'clock  when  they  left 
the  house  and  started  for  the  car. 

"Well,  will  she  do?"  asked  Artie 
almost  as  soon  as  the  door  had  closed 
behind  them. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  replied  Miller,  warmly. 
"  She  's  an  awfully  nice  girl." 

"  Nothin'  mushy,  eh  ?  None  o'  this 
soft  work  ?  " 

"  No,  sir.    She  's  a  good,  sensible  girl." 

"  How  about  her  bein'  a  good  looker  ? " 

"  Artie,  you  may  think  I  'm  trying  to 
flatter  you,  but  really  she  is  a  very  pretty 
girl  —  very  pretty." 

"  Say,  I  tumbled  that  she  was  the  real 
stuff  the  first  time  I  ever  see  her.  You 


ARTIE 

got  next  to  how  she  give  me  that  horrible 
jolt  about  the  dance,  did  n't  you  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  so." 

"  Now,  there  's  a  wise  girl.  She  knew 
awful  well  that  I  'd  told  you  about  meetin' 
her  at  the  dance,  and  how  I  caught  her 
that  night,  and  she  just  brought  the  thing 
up  to  square  herself  with  you.  She  did  n't 
want  you  to  think  that  any  Reub  could  go 
up  and  flag  her." 

"  Oh,  well,  you  can  see  that  she  is  n't 
that  kind  of  a  girl." 

"  Sure.  They  do  n't  grow  'em  on  the 
Lake  Shore  drive  any  better  behaved  than 
she  is  now." 


YOUNG  MR.  HALL 


XVI 

Every  breeze  that  came  in  at  the  open 
windows  was  as  soft  as  velvet.  The 
warm  sunshine  had  tempered  it  until  the 
last  sting  of  winter  was  gone. 

Miller  and  Artie  had  removed  their 
coats  and  unbuttoned  their  vests.  They 
worked  listlessly,  and  occasionally  one  of 
them  would  lean  back  and  gaze  sleepily 
out  at  the  walls  and  roofs  and  the  distant 
ribbon  of  lake,  now  dotted  here  and  there 
with  moving  specks. 

"  A  man  ought  to  be  pinched  for  workin' 
a  day  like  this,"  Artie  finally  observed. 

"Isn't  it  delightful?"  said  Miller. 
"  This  is  the  time  of  year  when  a  man 
feels  like  getting  out  into  the  country." 

"  That  ain't  no  lie,  neither.  You  do  n't 
'43 


ARTIE 

see  very  many  Johnny-jump-ups  growin* 
along  Dearborn  street,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  expect  to  get  away  from 
town  often  this  summer  ?  " 

"  Gee,  I  can't  go  very  far.  Since  I  've 
started  plantin'  my  stuff  in  the  bank  and 
plunkin'  in  a  few  cases  every  month  on  the 
buildin'  and  loan  game,  I  've  got  to  play 
purty  close  to  my  bosom,  I  '11  tell  you 
those.  Night  before  last,  though,  I  was 
fixin'  it  up  with  Mame  to  take  a  little  run 
over  to  St.  Joe  or  up  to  Milwaukee  on  the 
boat.  When  they  let  you  ride  all  day  on 
the  boat  for  a  dollar  a  throw,  w'y,  that 's 
where  I  cut  in  freely.  But  they  do  n't 
get  my  game  at  any  o'  them  summer  re 
sorts  where  they  set  you  back  five  big 
elegant  bucks  a  day  for  a  room  about  as 
big  as  that  telephone  box  over  there.  Then 
if  you  want  anything  to  chew  you  've  got 
to  square  the  waiter  every  time  you  go  in 
the  dinin'-room.  I  went  up  against  one 
o'  them  places  last  summer.  I  com- 
144 


ARTIE 

menced  owin*  money  to  that  hotel  before 
I  got  off  the  train.  They  cleaned  me  in 
two  days,  but  then,  as  they  say  down  on 
State  street,  I  was  n't  very  dirty  when  I 
landed." 

"  If  I  'm  going  to  take  a  vacation,"  said 
Miller,  "  I  'd  rather  get  right  out  into  the 
country.  Do  n't  you  like  the  country  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  ain't  dead  sure  about  that.  I 
'spose  the  country's  all  right  to  a  man 
that 's  lived  there,  but  you  take  some  wise 
boy  that  was  brought  up  in  town,  and  you 
throw  him  out  on  a  farm,  and  he's  the 
worst  ever.  You  've  seen  them  boys 
around  the  Union  station  comin'  in  with 
their  red-topped  boots  and  high  hats  and 
paper  grips  —  well,  when  you  see  them 
fallin'  into  coal-holes  and  bein'  snaked  out 
by  fake  hotel-runners  you  think  they  're 
purty  new,  do  n't  you  ?  Well,  say,  there 
ain't  one  o'  them  that 's  half  the  horrible 
mark  that  some  Chicago  dub  is  when  he 
goes  up  against  that  farm  game.  If  he 


ARTIE 

do  n't  look  like  a  yellow  clarinet  in  twenty- 
four  hours  you  can  mark  me  down  for  a 
sucker.  They  can  't  spring  none  o'  that 
happy-childhood  -  days  -  down  -  on-the-farm 
business  on  me.  I  've  been  next,  I  '11  tell 
you  those." 

"  I  did  n't  know  that  you  were  ever  on 
a  farm,"  said  Miller,  laughing. 

"  I  was  there  once,  all  right,  and  I  got  it 
throwed  into  me  so  hard  I  was  good  and 
sore,  too.  Four  years  ago  this  summer 
—  that  was  before  my  father  died  —  my 
uncle  Matt,  that 's  got  a  farm  a  little  ways 
from  Galesburg,  wrote  for  me  to  come 
down  and  visit  'em.  The  old  gentleman 
asked  me  if  I  wanted  to  go,  and  I  said, 
1  Sure  thing ;  in  a  minute,'  I  'd  been 
readin'  them  con  story-books  about  pickin' 
flowers  and  goin'  fishin'  and  dubbin'  around 
the  woods  out  in  the  country,  and  I  thinks 
to  myself:  c  This  is  a  cinch.  I  '11  go  down 
there  and  dazzle  them  jays.'  So  I  went 
down  there,  and  a  cousin  o'  mine,  Spencer 
146 


ARTIE 

Blanchard,  met  me  at  the  train  with  a 
buggy  and  drove  me  out.  I  got  there  in 
time  for  supper,  and  they  all  give  me  the 
glad  hand  and  jollied  me  up,  and  I  kind  o' 
thought  that  first  night  that  I  'd  be  a  warm 
proposition  out  there.  Well,  holy  smoke  ! 
about  the  time  they  got  the  dishes  washed 
up  the  uncle  says  to  me, «•  I  guess  we  'd 
better  turn  in.'  c  What  do  you  mean  ? '  I 
says  ;  *  go  to  bed  ? '  c  Sure  thing,'  says  he. 
1  We  got  to  get  all  kinds  of  an  early  start 
in  the  morning.'  I  could  n't  stand  for  that. 
I  put  up  a  holler  right  at  the  jump.  I  told 
*em  I  was  just  usually  beginnin'  to  enjoy 
myself  about  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening. 
They  said  I  could  set  up  if  I  wanted  to, 
and  then  they  ducked  and  turned  in.  Well, 
I  did  n't  want  to  turn  in,  but  there  was 
nothin'  to  keep  me  up.  I  set  out  by  the 
pump  for  a  little  while  smokin'  and  listenin* 
to  them  katydids  gettin'  in  their  work,  and 
then  I  went  in  the  house  and  went  to  bed, 
but  I  could  n't  get  to  sleep  before  mid- 


ARTIE 

night.  It  seemed  to  me  I  'd  been  poundin' 
my  ear  about  ten  minutes  when  somebody 
walloped  me  in  the  back  and  hollered, 
1  Get  up.'  Well,  I  set  up  in  bed,  and  — 
honest,  Miller,  this  ain't  no  kid  —  it  was 
dark  outside.  l  What 's  the  trouble  ? '  I 
says.  4  Is  the  house  on  fire  ? '  It  was 
my  cousin  Spencer  that  give  me  the  jolt 
in  the  back.  l  It 's  time  to  get  up,'  he 
says.  I  asked  him  what  time  it  was,  and 
what  do  you  think  he  said  ?  This  is  on 
the  level,  too.  He  says,  c  It 's  past 
four.'  When  he  said  that  I  did  n't  know 
what  kind  of  a  combination  I  'd  struck." 

"  I  guess  people  in  the  country  often  get 
up  that  early  in  the  summer  time,  espe 
cially  in  the  busy  season,"  said  Miller. 

"  They  'd  never  got  me  up,  I  tell  you 
those,  only  that  fresh  cousin  o'  mine 
grabbed  me  by  the  leg  and  pulled  me  out. 
Oh,  he 's  a  playful  guy,  all  right.  Well, 
I  put  on  my  clothes  and  went  downstairs, 
dead  on  my  feet.  You  see,  I  was  shy  four 
148 


ARTIE 

or  five  hours'  sleep.  When  they  see  me 
they  all  give  me  the  horse-laugh,  even  the 
hired  girl.  My  aunt  asked  me  what  time 
I  got  up  when  I  was  in  town,  and  I  said 
never  before  seven  o'clock,  and  then  they 
all  yelled  again.  They  seemed  to  think  I 
was  wrong  in  my  nut  out  there.  Every 
thing  I  done  or  said  they  give  me  the 
ha-ha." 

"  Of  course  life  in  the  city  is  much 
different,"  said  Miller. 

"  Well,  I  guess  yes.  I  know  this  town 
like  a  book.  I  can  begin  at  the  first  card 
and  go  through  the  deck,  but  out  there  — 
they  lose  me.  They  had  me  lookin*  like 
a  Reub  all  the  time.  The  worst  one  was 
the  hired  hand.  His  name  was  Elias.  I 
see  him  up  here  the  time  of  the  World's 
Fair,  dodgin'  cable  cars  and  lookin'  up  at 
the  skyscrapers.  He  was  dead  lucky  to 
get  out  o'  town  without  havin'  his  clothes 
lifted,  and,  at  that,  I  ain't  sure  he  did.  But 
down  at  the  farm,  he  was  the  wise  guy 
149 


ARTIE 

and  I  was  the  soft  mark.  What  do  you 
think  ?  The  second  day  I  was  there  I 
goes  out  in  the  field  where  they  was  cut- 
tin'  down  the  oats  with  one  o'  them  bindin' 
machines,  and  'Lias  asked  me  to  go  back 
to  the  barn  and  ask  Uncle  Matt  if  he  had 
a  left-handed  monkey  wrench.  How  was 
I  to  know  ?  I  ain't  up  on  monkey- 
wrenches.  Gee,  I  went  drillin'  way  back 
to  the  barn  through  the  hot  sun, and  when 
I  sprung  the  left-handed  monkey-wrench 
on  the  uncle  it  made  a  horrible  hit  with 
him.  He  hollered  around  till  I  got  kind 
o'  sore.  Then  he  went  in  the  house  and 
told  them  and  they  all  had  a  fit  about  it. 
But  you  ought  o'  seen  'Lias  when  he  come 
in  at  night.  He  was  all  swelled  up  over 
the  way  he  throwed  it  into  me.  He 
thought  he  was  a  better  comedian  than 
Nat  Goodwin.  He  must  a'  gone  for  two 
nrles  all  around  tellin'that  monkey-wrench 
story,  and  a  lot  o'  the  hands  used  to  come 
over  and  kid  me.  They  'd  laugh  and  slap 
150 


ARTIE 

their  legs  and  say,  l  By  Jing  ! '  They  had 
me  crazy.  I  used  to  think  it  was  n't  on 
the  square  to  josh  a  man  because  he  was 
from  the  country,  but  do  n't  you  fool  your 
self —  them  country  people  won  't  do  a 
thing  to  a  city  guy  if  they  ever  get  him 
out  where  they  can  take  a  good,  fair  crack 
at  him." 

"  It  was  all  in  fun,  though,  was  n't  it  ?" 
asked  Miller. 

"  Oh,  sure  j  they  thought  they  was 
givin'  me  a  good  time.  There  was  a  kid 
cousin  o'  mine,  Rutherford  Hayes  Blanch- 
ard  —  would  n't  that  name  frost  you  ?  — 
that  jollied  me  into  ridin'  bareback  on  one 
o'  the  old  pelters  they  had  around  the 
place.  I  was  up  in  the  air  most  o'  the 
time,  and  after  I  got  through  ridin'  mebbe 
you  think  I  was  n't  sore.  This  same  kid 
took  me  down  to  the  crick  to  go  swim- 
min'.  I  burned  the  skin  off  o'  my  back, 
got  a  peach  of  a  stone  bruise  on  my  foot, 
and  while  I  was  in,  'Lias  and  Spencer  come 


ARTIE 

over  and  tied  my  clothes  in  hard  knots. 
That 's  just  a  sample.  Oh,  I  had  a  nice 
time.  After  a  day  or  two  I  shook  my 
town  clothes  and  made  up  for  a  farmer 
but  I  could  n't  play  the  part.  They  used 
to  make  me  try  to  hitch  up  the  team  with 
out  anyone  helpin',  and  then  they  'd  all 
stand  around  and  kid  me  me  when  I  made 
bad  breaks.  It  was  a  cinch  that  I  'd  fall 
down.  I  did  n't  know  a  whiffle-tree  from 
a  tug.  Then  they  had  me  milkin',  too.  I 
do  n't  know  whether  you  're  on  to  it  or 
not,  but  if  you  try  to  play  up  to  a  cow  on 
the  wrong  side  of  her  she  's  liable  to  make 
a  sassy  pass  and  land  the  knockout. 
Well,  the  first  night  they  took  me  out  to 
milk  they  steered  me  up  against  the  bum 
side  o'  the  cow.  I  'm  purty  game  myself, 
an'  I  did  n't  want  to  quit,  but  she  was  too 
good  for  me.  She  kept  me  busy  for  about 
five  minutes,  and  then  I  went  to  my  corner 
and  said  I  had  enough.  Say,  the  whole 
push  had  been  leanin'  on  the  fence  laughin' 
152 


ARTIE 

at  me  till  they  cried.  I  guess  they  had 
more  fun  around  that  place  while  I  was 
there  than  they  ever  had  before.  I  stood 
it  for  about  ten  days,  helpin'  'em  work  in 
the  fields,  gettin'  all  tanned  up  and  roundin' 
in  to  supper  every  night  smellin'  like  a 
laundry,  and  then  I  kind  o'  figured  it  out 
that  farm  life  was  too  swift  for  me.  I 
kind  o*  wanted  to  see  the  'lectric  lights 

D 

and  the  tall  houses  again.  So  I  said  I  was 
goin'.  They  made  an  awful  kick  for  me 
to  stay.  They  knew  they  had  a  good 
thing.  But  I  broke  away." 

u  Then  you  're  not  fond  of  the  coun 
try  ? " 

"  It 's  this  way.  I  would  n't  mind  goin' 
out  for  awhile  if  I  could  play  myself  off  as 
company,  but  when  it  comes  to  bein*  one 
of  the  family  —  nit,  nit." 


XVII 

"Well,  I  'm  goin'  to  be  one  o'  them 
boys,"  said  Artie,  after  he  had  seated  him 
self  and  turned  half-way  around  so  that  he 
could  see  Miller. 

"  What  boys  ?  "  asked  Miller. 

"  Them  bike  people  with  the  fried-egg 
caps  and  the  wall-paper  stockins'.  I  'm 
goin'  to  be  the  sassiest  club  boy  in  the 
whole  push.  You  just  wait.  In  about  a 
week  I  '11  come  hot-footin'  in  here  with  my 
knee-pants  and  a  dinky  coat,  and  do  the 
club  yell." 

"  I  knew  you  'd  get  it  sooner  or  later." 

u  This  thing  got  the  half-Nelson  on  me 

before   I   know  it.     One  night  I  goes  to 

bed  feelin'  all  right  and  the  next  mornin' 

when  I  woke  up   I  was  wrong.     There 

»54 


ARTIE 

was  somethin'  ailed  me,  but  I  was  n't  wise 
to  it.  The  first  thing  I  know  I  was  stop- 
pin'  along  the  street  lookin'  at  the  wheels 
in  the  windows  and  gettin'  next  to  the  new 
kinds  o'  saddles  and  rubber-neckin'  to  read 
the  names  on  the  tires,  and  all  that  busi 
ness.  Then  I  begin  to  see  that  I  had  it 
the  same  as  everybody  else." 

u  I  noticed  that  you  'd  been  talking 
bicycle  lately,  but  I  did  n't  know  you  were 
going  to  get  one." 

"I'll  tell  you.  I  had  a  spiel  with 
Mame  last  night  and  we  fixed  it  up  that 
if  we  did  n't  ride  wheels  this  summer  we 
would  n't  be  in  it  at  all,  so  I  'm  goin*  to 
do  the  sucker  act  and  blow  myself." 

"  Does  Mamie  ride  ? " 

"  Does  she  ?  She  's  a  scorchalorum.  You 
ought  o'  seen  her  pushin'  around  the 
block  last  night  on  the  Connelly  girl's 
wheel.  I  told  her  if  she  ever  went  through 
the  park  speedin'  like  that  she  'd  have  all 
the  sparrow  cops  layin'  for  her." 


ARTIE 

"  How  did  she  learn  if  she  has  n't  a 
wheel  ? " 

"Just  picked  it  up.  Ain't  I  told  you 
she  's  a  world  -  beater  ?  She  's  got  the 
dough  saved  up  to  buy  a  wheelv  too. 
There 's  a  funny  thing.  A  girl  has  to 
work  for  nothin',  but  she  can  always  keep 
herself  dressed  right  and  show  a  little  bank 
roll  to  the  good.  A  man  gets  two  or  three 
times  as  much  coin  —  always  on  the  hog, 
and  goin'  around  lookin'  like  a  tramp.  If 
Mame  had  my  salary  she  'd  be  collectin' 
rent  on  flat  buildin's." 

"What  kind  of  a  wheel  are  you  going 
to  get?" 

"  Now  you  've  got  me  guessin'.  I  've 
talked  to  twenty  wise  guys  that've  been 
ridin',  and  every  one  of  'em  sings  a  dif 
ferent  song.  Every  guy  cracks  up  his 
own  wheel,  and  says  all  the  others  is 
made  out  o'  sheet  iron  and  bum  castin's. 
I  've  had  five  or  six  chances  to  get  inside 
prices.  A  friend  o'  mine  fixed  it  so  I  can 
156 


ARTIE 

get  a  purty  fair  wheel  for  fifty  and  pay  for 
it  at  five  a  week,  and  I  think  I  Ml  take  it." 

"  Can  you  ride  ?  " 

u  I  can  stay  on,  but  when  it  comes  to 
stickin'  to  a  straight  line  or  turnin'  around 
to  come  back  I  'm  purty  tart.  The  only 
practice  I  've  had  is  on  some  o'  the  wheels 
that  belong  to  the  boys  out  at  the  boat- 
house.  Anybody  that  gets  on  the  same 
street  with  me  is  takin'  horrible  chances. 
I  never  know  what  I  'm  goin'  to  carom 
against.  The  other  day  I  tried  to  climb 
a  lamp-post  and  a  lot  of  fresh  kids  stood 
around  and  give  me  the  laugh." 

"  How  does  it  happen  that  you  never 
wanted  a  wheel  before  ?  I  've  been  riding 
for  two  years." 

"  There  was  too  many  Charley-boys 
ridin'.  You  know  the  kind  I  mean  — 
them  dubs  with  the  long  hair  and  the 
badges  all  over  the  coats.  W'y  I  've  seen 
'em  with  tobacco  tags,  campaign  buttons 
and  little  ribbons  hung  all  over  the  front 


ARTIE 

of  'em.  I  could  n't  stand  for  nothin'  like 
that.  They  was  out  just  to  make  a  show 
o'  themselves.  This  year  it's  different. 
Everybody  's  gone  nutty  on  the  proposi 
tion.  You  can  go  out  on  a  bike  now 
without  every  driver  tryin'  to  upset  you 
and  all  the  people  joshin'  you  about  your 
knee-pants." 

"  It 's  wonderful,  the  number  of  people 
riding  wheels  this  spring,"  said  Miller. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  they  've  gone  daffy  ami 
I  'm  one  of  'em.  I  'm  goin'  to  be  the 
worst  fan  in  the  whole  bunch.  What  do 
you  think  last  Sunday  out  at  Lincoln 
Park?  Old  geezers  —  ye-e-s,  the  white- 
haired  boys  that  you  'd  think  was  too  stiff 
to  back  a  wheel  out  of  a  shed,  they  was 
out  there  in  them  dizzy  togs  cuttin'  up 
and  down  the  track  like  two-year-olds. 
And  old  girls,  too  —  girls  from  away  back, 
about  the  crop  o'  '45  —  fat  ones,  too  — 
poundin'  the  pedals  and  duckin'  in  and  out 
past  the  rigs  !  W'y,  when  I  see  it  I  put 
158 


ARTIE 

both  hands  in  the  air  and  I  says:  'Well, 
when  the  old  people  can  cut  in  on  this 
game  it 's  about  time  for  me  to  begin  to 
associate.'  I  '11  be  with  'em,  too,  next 
Sunday." 

41  Are  you  going  to  wear  a  suit  ?  "  asked 
Miller. 

"  Well,  I'm  a  little  leary  on  that.  I 
do  n't  want  to  get  too  gay  on  the  jump. 
iMame  wants  me  to  get  one  and  be  right 
in  line  with  all  them  club  boys,  but  when 
she  first  sprung  it  on  me  I  said  :  c  Nix;  if 
I  ever  come  up  here  with  one  o'  them 
funny  suits  on  the  old  man  might  take  a 
shot  at  me.'  Here's  a  funny  thing  about 
that.  Here  's  somethin'  that  '11  knock 
you  cold.  Last  night  when  I  gets  to  the 
house  to  see  the  girl,  Mrs.  Carroll's  on 
the  front  porch  and  I  could  see  she  was 
hot  about  something.  I  asked  her  if  any 
thing  had  gone  wrong  and  she  says,  c  Mr. 
Blanchard,  there  's  an  old  man  around  the 
corner  makin'  a  fool  of  himself.  If  you  've 


ARTIE 

got  any  drag  with  him  I  wish  you  'd  go 
and  get  him  in  the  house  before  he  breaks 
his  neck.'  I  was  n't  on  to  what  she  was 
talkin'  about,  but  she  pointed  to  the 
corner  and  I  walked  over  there  and  say  — 
this  is  a  good  thing — if  there  was  n'tMame's 
old  man  takin'  a  fall  out  of  a  wheel.  He'd 
borrowed  it  from  one  o'  the  neighbors, and 
this  guy  was  holdin'  him  on  and  jollyin' 
him  along.  l  Do  n't  be  afraid,'  he  says, 
'you  won't  fall.'  The  old  man's  eyes 
was  hangin'  out,  and  he  was  workin'  them 
handle-bars  like  a  man  twistin'  a  brake. 
Gee,  he  was  a  sight.  I  had  to  holler  and 
then  he  looked  up  and  saw  me.  Course 
that  rattled  him  and  over  he  went.  He 
made  a  fair  fall,  too,  both  shoulders  on 
the  ground  and  Mr.  Bike  on  top  of  him. 
You  ought  o'  heard  some  o'  the  large  blue 
language  the  old  man  got  rid  of  soon  as 
we  took  the  wheel  off  of  him.  I  did  n't 
know  it  was  in  him.  c  Try  it  again,'  this 
neighbor  says,  and  he  was  takin'  long 
160 


ARTIE 

chances  on  gettin'  his  wheel  smashed  at 
that.  But  the  old  man  would  n't  listen  to 
it.  He  went  limpin'  back  to  the  house, 
and  Mrs.  Carroll  says  :  c  Well,  I  hope 
you  're  satisfied  now.'  The  old  man  give 
her  the  cold  eye,  and  then  he  says  to  me  : 
1  She  'd  talk  that  way  if  I  'd  been  killed.' 
I  guess  Mame's  mother  is  the  only  people 
on  the  North  Side  that  ain't  monkeyin' 
with  a  wheel." 

"  When  do  you  and  Mamie  make  your 
first  appearance  ?  " 

"  As  soon  as  we  can  get  the  wheels.  If 
I  do  n't  get  mine  inside  of  a  week  I'll  go 
bug-house.  I'm  dreamin'  wheels,  I  tell 
you.  Last  night  I  dreamt  I  was  goin' 
along  at  about  forty  miles  an  hour  and  run 
into  a  steam  roller." 

"  Did  it  break  the  wheel  ?  " 

"  I  give  it  up.  I  woke  up  and  found 
myself  tryin'  to  get  the  strangle  hold  on 
the  pillow." 

"Is  Mamie  going  to  wear  bloomers  ?" 


ARTIE 

"  Is  she  ?  Is  she  goin'  to  wear  'em  — 
bloomers  ?  Not  on  your  facial  expression. 
The  first  time  we  talked  wheel  I  got  up 
and  declared  myself  on  the  bloomer  busi 
ness.  I  done  the  tall  talk.  I  told  her 
any  time  she  sprung  them  Turkish  village 
clothes  on  her  Artie  boy,  all  bets  was  goin' 
to  be  declared  off." 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  Bloomers 
are  all  right." 

"  They  're  all  right  on  some  other  guy's 
girl,  but  they  do  n't  go  in  my  set.  When 
I  see  my  girl  come  on  a  wheel  I  want  to 
know  whether  it 's  her  or  some  Board  o' 
Trade  clerk.  I  do  n't  want  to  be  kept 
guessin'.  " 

"  Why,  what  's  wrong  with  bloom 
ers  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you.  The  first  one  I  ever  see 
in  bloomers  was  a  lemon-faced  fairy  that 
jught  o'  been  picked  along  about  cen 
tennial  year.  She  come  peltin'  along 


z6a 


ARTIE 

Michigan  avenue  with  one  o*  them  ballet- 
girl  smiles  splittin'  that  face  o'  hers,  and 
I  aint  kiddin'  when  I  tell  you  that  a 
horse  jumped  up  on  the  sidewalk  and  tried 
to  get  in  the  Risholoo  hotel  so  as  to  pass 
it  up.  For  a  month  afterwards  I  'd  see 
that  face  at  night  and  I  'd  wake  up  and 
holler  :  l  Take  it  away  ! '  From  the  min 
ute  I  see  this  good  thing  on  Michigan  I  'm 
dead  sore  on  all  bloomers.  I  never  see  a 
good-lookin'  girl  wear  'em  yet.  Some  of 
'em  might  have  been  good  lookers  before 
they  got  into  'em,  but  after  that — nit. 
You  need  n't  be  afraid  o'  Mame,  and 
what 's  more,  I  do  n't  want  to  talk  about 
her  wearin'  them  things  at  all.  I  like  her 
too  well.  Do  you  think  I  'm  goin'  out 
ridin'  with  her  and  have  a  lot  o'  cheap 
skates  stoppin'  to  play  horse  with  her 
everywhere  we  go  ?  Not  in  a  thousand 
years.  Besides,  she  do  n't  have  to  make 
up  like  a  man  to  make  people  look  at  her. 


163 


ARTIE 

She  ain't  like  some  o'  the  others.  W'y, 
she  kills  'em  dead  in  her  street  clothes. 
Bloomers  !  Well,  if  Mame  goes  with  me 
she  goes  as  a  girl,  and  that  ain't  no  lie, 
neither." 


ON  MIS  UPPERS 


XVIII 

As  Artie  came  in  he  saw  a  stranger 
seated  near  Miller's  desk.  The  stranger 
was  rather  well  dressed,  although  his  gar 
ments  were  not  of  the  latest  cut.  He  had 
a  good  tan  color  in  his  face,  and  for  that 
and  some  other  reasons  which  he  could 
not  have  explained  to  himself,  Artie  knew 
that  the  stranger  was  merely  a  visitor  to 
Chicago. 

"  O  Artie,"  said  Miller,  "  I  want  you 
to  meet  my  cousin,  Walter  Miller.  He 
lives  in  my  old  town.  Walter,  this  is 
Mr.  Blanchard,  Artie  Blanchard." 

"  He  was  just  speaking  about  you,"  said 
the  cousin,  with  an  amiable  but  rather 
embarrassed  smile. 

"  Did  he  gi'  me  the  worst  of  it  ? "  in- 
165 


ARTIE 

quired  Artie.  "Is  'pose  he  did.  He  "s 
on  to  the  story  of  my  past  life." 

"  No,"  said  Miller.  "  I  was  just  tell 
ing  him  that  if  he  wanted  to  know  any 
thing  about  Chicago  you  were  the  man 
that  could  tell  him." 

"  Well,  that 's  a  good  send  off.  What 
are  you  doin'  ?  Passin'  me  off  as  one  o' 
the  sights  o'  the  town  ?  I  s  'pose  you 
told  him  that  every  visitor  to  Chicago 
ought  to  see  Lincoln  Park,  the  stock 
yards,  the  sky-scrapers  and  Artie  Blanch- 
ard  and  then  buy  a  box  o'  candy  for  the 
loved  ones  at  home." 

"  No,  but  I  told  him  you  were  just  as 
good  as  a  guide-book." 

"  Better.  I  can  put  him  next  to  things 
that  ain't  in  the  guide-books.  Come  over 
here  next  to  the  window  where  there  's  a 
draught,  Mr.  Miller.  You  might  as  well 
take  the  air  freely.  That 's  the  only  thing 
in  Chicago  that  you  '11  get  for  nothin'." 

"  I  believe  you  're  about  right,"  re- 
166 


ARTIE 

marked  the  cousin,  as  he  moved  over  to  a 
place  near  the  window.  "  Coming  up  the 
street  this  morning  I  wanted  a  glass  of 
water,  and  I  finally  had  to  go  into  a  saloon 
and  buy  it." 

"  If  you  'd  had  a  beer  thirst  you  'd  have 
been  all  right.  Is  this  the  first  time  you  've 
been  up  against  the  town  ?  " 

**  No,  I  was  here  a  week  the  time  of  the 
World  's  Fair,  but  I  did  n't  get  into  this 
part  of  town  much." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it  as  far 
as  you  Ve  got  ?  Warm  town,  eh  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed  ;  wonderful.  I  always 
feel  rather  lost  when  I  get  in  the  crowds." 

"  I  s  'pose  it  is  that  way  for  a  day  or 
two,  but  you  M  soon  get  used  to  it." 

"  I  do  n't  believe  I  would.  There  are 
too  many  people  here.  I  'm  afraid  I  'd 
never  get  along  in  Chicago." 

"  You  want  to  get  over  that  in  a  hurry. 
Of  course  there  's  an  awful  push  in  the 
streets  here  any  day?  and  I  s  'pose  when  you 
167 


ARTIE 

first  get  in  you  kind  o'  feel  that  you  're  up 
against  a  lot  o'  wise  city  mugs  and  that 
they  must  be  purty  fly  because  they  live 
right  here  in  town.  I  've  had  people  tell 
me  that 's  the  way  they  felt  at  first,  but  it 
did  n't  take  'em  long  to  find  out  there  's 
just  as  many  pin-heads  on  State  street  as 
you  '11  find  anywhere  out  in  the  woods." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  a  man  would  learn 
about  the  city  in  a  little  while  r  " 

"  Cert.  It  ain't  where  a  man's  born  or 
where  he  was  raised  that  puts  him  in  any 
class.  It 's  whether  he  's  got  anything 
under  his  hat.  I  seen  too  many  o'  these 
boys  kind  o'  jump  in  from  the  country  and 
make  a  lot  or  city  boys  look  like  rabbits. 
You  see,  Mr.  Miller,  when  a  guy  comes  in 
from  the  country  he  figures  it  out :  l  Here, 
I  'm  goin'  against  a  tough  proposition,  and 
I  've  got  to  hump  myself  to  keep  up.' 
He  's  willin'  to  learn  a  few  things  and  do 
the  best  he  can.  If  he  feels  that  way 
he  stands  to  win  out.  But  if  he  comes 
168 


ARTIE 

canterin'  into  town  to  be  a  dead-game  sport 
and  set  a  pace  for  all  the  boys,  w'y,  he 
do  n't  last.  It 's  a  small  town,  but  it 's  too 
big  for  any  one  boy  to  come  in  from  the 
country  and  scare  it.  Them  sporty  boys 
do  n't  last.  They  get  in  with  a  lot  o' 
cheap  skates  and  chase  around  at  nights  and 
think  they  're  the  real  thing,  and  then  in  a 
couple  o'  moons  they  go  back  home  and 
leave  all  their  stuff  in  hock.  They  think 
they  're  fly,  but  they  ain't." 

"  I  know  some  that  have  done  that  very 
thing." 

"  Sure  you  do.  I  ain  't  roastin'  no  man 
'cause  he  's  from  the  country.  You  go 
along  Prairie  avenue  and  see  all  o'  them 
swell  joints  where  the  fat  boys  with  side- 
whiskers  hang  out.  Well,  them  boys  all 
come  in  from  the  country,  but  they  had 
sense  enough  to  saw  wood  and  plant  a  little 
coin  when  it  begin  to  come  easy.  I  'm 
tellin'  you,  the  worst  suckers  you  '11  find  is 
some  o'  these  city  people  that  know  it  all 
169 


ARTIE 

to  begin  with.  They  got  such  a  long  start 
on  everybody  else  that  they  do  n't  need  to 
learn  nothin'.  If  they  know  the  names  o' 
the  streets,  what  shows  is  in  town  next 
week,  what  color  of  a  necktie  to  flash  and 
what  was  the  score  at  the  ball  game  they 
think  they  come  purt'  near  bein'  dead 
wise.  You  live  here  in  town  awhile  and 
you  '11  get  on  to  them  people.  Say !  I 
know  a  lot  o'  boys  that 's  got  just  enough 
sense  to  put  in  workin'  hours  and  then 
go  ridin'  a  wheel.  You  could  n't  set  'em 
down  and  tell  'em  a  thing.  Any  of  'em 
that 's  got  himself  staked  to  a  spring  suit 
and  knows  the  chorus  o'  c  Paradise  Alley ' 
thinks  he  's  up  to  the  limit.  You  can 
make  book  that  them  boys  '11  be  workin' 
on  bum  salaries  when  they  're  gray  headed, 
and  what 's  more,  they  Ml  be  workin'  for 
r,ome  Reub  that  come  into  town  wearin' 
hand-me-downs." 

"  Well,    I    suppose    folks    out    in    the 


170 


ARTIE 

country  do  give  the  city  people  too  much 
credit  for  being  smart,"  said  the  visitor. 

"  Oh,  we  've  got  'em  smart  enough,  all 
right,  all  right,  but  I  'm  tellin'  you  about 
the  cheap  ones.  You  're  a  stranger  here 
and  you  see  some  guy  goin'  along  State 
street  puttin*  on  a  horrible  front,  tryin'  to 
kill  women  right  and  left,  a  big  piece  o' 
rock  salt  on  his  necktie,  and  you  say, 
4Hully  gee,  I  wonder  who  that  case  o' 
swell  is;  Marshall  Field  or  P.  D.  Armour  ?' 
Well,  say,  it 's  a  ten  to  one  shot  that  all 
that  that  fellow  's  got  in  the  world  he 's  got 
right  with  him,  and  at  that  it  ain't  no  cinch 
he  's  wearin'  underclothes.  You  've  got 
to  learn  these  things.  You  don  't  know 
—  mebbe  that  guy  can 't  spell  through  the 
first  reader.  Any  old  farmer  with  one  o' 
them  bunches  on  his  chin  could  buy  up 
him  and  a  hundred  more  like  him.  Well, 
he's  just  the  kind  of  a  counterfeit  that 'd 
go  out  in  the  country  and  play  himself  off 


171 


ARTIE 

as  the  real  boy  because  he  lives  in  the  city. 
Now,  don't  you  fool  yourself  for  a  minute, 
Mr.  Miller.  Take  my  tip.  We  've  got 
just  as  many  suckers  up  here  as  you  've 
got  down  your  way." 

"  I  think  you  're  right  about  that,"  said 
Miller,  who  had  been  listening. 

"  You  know  it.  Take  them  mashers 
along  State  street.  Can  you  beat  'em  any 
where  ?  Then  a  little  farther  south  you  '11 
see  them  stranded  boys,  goin'  around  on 
their  uppers  and  takin'  a  dip  at  the  free 
lunch  when  nobody  's  lookin'.  They  'd 
sooner  stand  around  in  town  and  starve  to 
death  than  get  out  somewhere  and  make  a 
stand  for  the  coin.  Any  one  o'  them  vags 
thinks  he's  too  good  to  go  out  in  the 
country  or  to  some  little  town  and  live 
decent." 

"  It 's  tough  down  that  way.  I  walked 
up  through  there  this  morning,"  said  the 
visiting  Miller. 

"  You  can  get  any  kind  of  a  game  you 


ARTIE 

want  down  there,  but  you  're  safe  if  you 
do  n't  go  huntin'  trouble.  Any  man  that 
keeps  hot-footin'  right  along  and  says 
nothin'  to  nobody  is  all  right.  Of  course, 
when  one  of  these  new  boys  comes  in  and 
raps  on  the  bar  and  says  he 's  got  money 
to  burn  there 's  always  some  handy  man 
right  there  to  give  him  a  match.  When 
that  kind  of  a  mark  comes  in  they  get 
out  the  bottle  o'  knock-out  drops  and  get 
ready  to  do  business.  A  man  like  you, 
Mr.  Miller,  won't  have  no  trouble  here. 
And  for  goodness  sake  do  n't  think  you  're 
up  against  anything  great  when  you  're 
minglin'  with  Chicago  people.  When 
you  come  to  know  the  town  it 's  as  com 
mon  as  plowed  ground.  I  know  a  good 
show  I  Ml  take  you  to  to-night." 


XIX 

It  was  Saturday  morning  and  Artie  came 
in  wearing  his  bicycle  clothes. 

"  How  do  you  like  'em  ?  "  he  asked, 
turning  about  so  that  Miller  and  young 
Mr.  Hall  could  see  the  hang  of  the  coat. 
"Reduced  from  nineteen  bones  to  seven 
seventy-five.  Are  you  next  to  the  stock- 
in's  ?  I  guess  I  ain't  got  no  shape  or 
nothinV 

"  It  looks  first  rate  on  you,"  said  young 
Mr.  Hall. 

"  Well,  why  not,  why  not  ?  I  think  I  'm 
one  o'  the  purtiest  boys  that  works  here  in 
the  office — anyway,  that 's  what  a  good 
many  people  tell  me." 

"  You  did  n't  have  it  made,  did  you  ?  " 
asked  Miller. 


DIFFERENT 


ARTIE 

"  Aw,  let  go  ;  do  n't  ask  such  ques 
tions.  Do  n't  it  look  just  as  good  as  if 
I  'd  coughed  up  twenty-five  plunks  for  it, 
huh  ?  " 

u  It 's  a  dressy  suit,"  said  Miller.  "  But 
why  are  you  wearing  it  this  morning  ? " 

"  W'y,  the  minute  I  get  through  here 
I  'm  goin'  out  to  meet  the  girl,  and  we  're 
goin'  over  to  the  park  just  to  show  people 
the  difference." 

"  You  're  still  going  out  to  see  that  girl, 
are  you?"  asked  young  Mr.  Hall. 

"  My  boy,  you  're  very  slow  here  lately. 
You  've  been  overlookin'  a  lot  o'  news." 

"  You  had  n't  told  me  anything  about 
her  for  a  long  time." 

"  That 's  because  she  ain't  been  sendin* 
any  word  to  you.  Miller's  been  out  to  see 
her." 

"  Have  you,  Miller  ? "  inquired  young 
Mr.  Hall. 

"Of  course  —  had  a  good  time." 

"  When  you  're  a  little  older  —  if  you  're 
175 


ARTIE 

good — I'll  take  you  out  some  night  and 
let  you  meet  some  o'  the  real  folks." 

"Oh,  thanks,"  said  young  Mr.  Hall, 
with  a  little  twitch,  suggestive  of  sarcasm, 
at  one  corner  of  his  mouth.  "  Do  you 
think  you  could  introduce  me  to  society." 

"  I  could  take  you  where  you  'd  have  to 
shake  that  Miss  Maud  business  and  comb 
your  hair  different  or  else  go  to  the  wall. 
If  you  ever  went  out  to  the  Carrolls  and 
sprung  that  gum-drop  talk  the  old  man 
wouldn't  do  a  thing  to  you." 

"  It  must  be  a  pleasant  sort  of  place," 
said  young  Mr.  Hall,  who  had  flushed  up 
at  the  reference  to  the  "  Miss  Maud  busi 
ness." 

"  The  best  ever — if  you  belong." 

Young  Mr.  Hall  smiled  complacently 
and  said :  "  Now  I  know  why  you  've 
changed  so  much  lately.  I  kind  of  be 
lieved  you  were  still  stuck  on  the  girl." 

41  Who  's  changed  ?  What  are  you 
talkin'  about  ?  " 

176 


ARTIE 

4<  Why,  you  have.  I  've  noticed  you 
never  chew  tobacco  any  more  for  one 
thing.  Did  she  make  you  stop  ?  " 

"  No,  she  did  n't.  Well,  you  've  got  a 
rind,  ain't  you  ?  What  if  she  had  ? 
What 's  it  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  only  I  can  notice  the  change. 
You  do  n't  cuss  like  you  used  to,  nor  smoke 
as  much,  and  I  've  seen  you  writing  letters 
on  that  square  paper  and  looking  out  of 
the  window  with  the  funniest  kind  of  a 
look " 

"  Break  away  !  Say,  I  believe  you  're 
tryin*  to  kid  me.  You  talk  like  a  man  that 
was  full  of  dope." 

"  I  '11  leave  it  to  Miller,"  persisted 
young  Mr.  Hall.  "  Has  n't  he  changed, 
Miller  ?  Gracious  me,  I  could  notice  it. 
I  didn't  know  what  the  reason  was,  be 
cause  after  that  first  time  he  never  told  me 
anything  about  this." 

"  Oh,  get  tired,  can't  you  !  "  interrupted 


177 


ARTIE 

Artie.  "  You  must  think  you  're  good  if 
you  can  string  me." 

"I'll  leave  it  to  Miller,"  repeated 
young  Mr.  Hall. 

"Well,"  said  Miller,  laughing,  "of 
course  Artie  has  changed  some,  but " 

"  There  !  "  exclaimed  young  Mr.  Hall, 
triumphantly. 

"  Humph  !  "  said  Artie.  His  face  was 
red  and  he  was  certainly  flustered.  "  It  'd 
be  a  dead  lucky  thing  if  some  more  people 
around  the  shop  'd  change  a  little.  They 
could  n't  be  any  punker  'n  they  are  now." 

But  young  Mr.  Hall  did  not  retort.  He 
had  made  his  point  and  was  satisfied. 

A  few  moments  later  young  Mr.  Hall 
put  on  his  hat  and  started  away  on  his 
daily  round  of  collections.  Artie  turned 
from  his  desk  and  said  to  Miller :  "  Say, 
that  boy  kind  o'  had  me  down  on  the  mat, 
did  n't  he?" 

"  Do  n't  mind  what  he  says." 

"  Yes,  but  he  had  the  best  of  it.  I 
178 


ARTIE 

did  n't  s'pose  he  'd  noticed  I  was  goin1 
queer.  They  say  a  man  never  does  know 
it  when  he  goes  off  the  jump.  On  the 
level,  though,  he  's  dead  right.  I  ain't  like 
I  was  the  first  time  I  met  the  girl.  No 
more  chasin'  around  at  nights,  no  blowin* 
my  stuff  against  a  lot  o'  dubs  and  no  more 
boozin'." 

"  I  'd  noticed  that." 

u  Sure.  I  ain't  had  a  package  since  that 
night  I  told  you  about,  and  then  they  made 
me  take  it." 

"  Package  ?     What 's  that  ?  " 

« W'y,  a  load,  a  jag !  Smoke  up ! 
Don't  go  out  on  me.  You  ought  to 
know  what  a  package  is." 

"  I  never  had  one." 

"  Well,  I  've  had  'em  when  I  had  to 
lay  down  in  the  grass  and  hold  on  with 
both  hands  to  keep  from  fallin'  off  the 
earth.  I  've  had  'em  when  I  made  tracks 
like  a  man  drivin'  geese.  I  was  like  lots 
more  o'  them  sporty  boys  —  wanted  to 
179 


ARTIE 

throw  in  the  big  bowls  just  to  show  I  was 
nice  people.  There  ain't  a  thing  in  it. 
Most  o'  them  West  Side  boys  I  started 
in  to  train  with  got  to  be  dead  tough.  I 
do  n't  want  to  star  myself,  but  I  think  I 
had  enough  wiseness  to  switch.  I  ain't 
no  blue-ribbon  boy,  but  if  you  ever  sec 
little  old  Artie  with  a  load  o'  peaches  you 
can  just  take  him  and  drop  him  in  the  river 
and  say  :  c  Here  goes  nothin'." 

"  There  's  nothing  like  a  good,  sensible 
girl  to  straighten  a  fellow  up." 

"  Mebbe  that  ain't  no  lie,  neither.  She 
ain't  never  struck  me  to  do  nothin',  but  I 
just  says  :  4  Here,  you  big  mark,  if  you're 
goin'  to  be  around  with  a  nice  girl,  why, 
you  've  got  to  be  nice  people.'  If  there 's 
anything  that  makes  me  sore  it 's  to  see 
some  swell-lookin'  girl  goin'  along  with  a 
guy  actin'  like  a  Reub  or  a  dead  tough. 
If  he  done  his  best,  you  know,  he  could  n't 
belong  with  her.  If  I  do  say  it  myself^ 
I  've  used  Mame  the  best  I  know  how  and 
180 


ARTIE 

been  purty  square.  Of  course  a  man  livin' 
in  this  Indian  village  may  think  he  's  on 
the  square  as  long  as  he  keeps  out  o*  the 
cooler,  but  I  know  I  ain't  been  as  tough  as 
a  lot  more.  What  knocks  me  is  to  think 
this  mamma's  boy  got  on  to  me.  I  must 
be  gettin'  purty  far  along  when  that  guy 
gets  next  and  tries  to  play  horse  with  me. 
Everybody  must  be  on.  I  s'pose  them  ele 
vator  boys  is  sayin':  *  Well,  about  day 
after  to-morrow  they  '11  put  his  nobs  into 
cell  1 3  and  send  for  the  doctors,'" 

"Nonsense,  nonsense,"  said  Miller, 
laughing  in  spite  of  himself.  "  You're  all 
right.  I  wish  I  was  stuck  on  some  girl. 
Then  I  'd  know  what  to  do  evenings." 

"  Evenings  !  Say,  Miller,  there  ought 
to  be  about  ten  evenings  every  week.  If 
things  keep  on  the  way  they  've  been  since 
both  of  us  went  daffy  on  the  bike  game, 
I  '11  have  to  give  up  my  job  here  and  move 
Mr.  Trunk  up  to  the  Carroll  joint.  I  'm 
gettin'  too  busy  to  work.  My  job  's  been 
181 


ARTIE 

interferin'  with  me  a  good  deal  lately.  I  'd 
give  it  up  only  for  one  thing." 

"  What 's  that  ?  " 

"  W'y,  the  dough,  of  course.  You  will 
have  to  smoke  up,  sure  enough.  Now  I 
think  I  '11  do  a  little  work  so  as  to  get 
through  early.  Mame  and  me  want  to  do 
a  century  by  4  o'clock.  I  went  eighteen 
miles  before  breakfast  this  morning.  I 
may  be  a  sloppy  rider,  but  I  'm  one  of  the 
best  i5O-pound  liars  in  the  business." 

"Well,  get  to  work,"  said  Miller. 
"  I  'm  going  to  be  busy  myself." 

"  What  are  you  hurryin"  to  get  through 
for  ?  You  ain't  got  nothin'  in  this  world 
to  live  for.  You  're  nothin'  but  a  chair- 
warmer." 

"  Never  you  mind.  Some  day  I  '11  fool 
you." 

"  Well,  if  it  happens  I  '11  be  fooled  all 
right,  all  right." 

And  with  that  he  went  to  work. 


183 


E  S  MOTHER 


XX 

A  full  moon  was  hanging  over  the  lake. 
The  whole  surface  of  small,  uneasy  waves 
was  lighted.  There  was  one  path  of 
shiny  splendor  leading  straight  out  toward 
the  moon  and  where  this  path  lost  itself 
no  one  could  tell. 

"  There  ain  't  no  moon  or  nothin'  to 
night,"  observed  Artie.  He  had  been  flip 
ping  pebbles  down  the  paved  beach  and 
into  the  water.  Mamie  sat  with  him  on 
the  stone  uplift  dividing  the  park  driveway 
from  the  slope  toward  the  water  —  with 
him,  to  be  sure,  but  three  or  four  feet 
away,  with  her  hat  in  her  lap.  "  It's  per 
fectly  lovely  to-night,"  she  said. 

The  two  bicycles  were  leaned  over 
against  the  stone  uplift  and  the  lamps 
183 


ARTIE 

threw  oblong  splotches  of  light  on  the 
gravel. 

Behind  Artie  and  Mamie  was  the  gloomy 
range  made  by  the  heavy  foliage  of  the 
park.  In  and  out  amid  the  dark  banks 
of  trees  and  along  the  level  driveway 
moved  glow  specks  like  so  many  busy 
fireflies.  Artie  saw  none  of  these,  for  he 
was  intent  on  the  spectacle  of  water  and 
moonshine. 

u  The  guy  that  could  put  all  that  into 
a  picture 'd  be  a  bird,  eh,  Mame?" 

"  It's  perfectly  lovely." 

"  That 's  what  it  is,  all  right.  They 
don  't  grow  many  like  this  one." 

"  I  could  stay  out  here  all  night  and  just 
look  at  the  lake." 

"  Could  you  ?  Well,  I  think  about  two 
o'clock  in  the  morning  I  'd  be  ready  to  let 
go.  It  is  a  peach  of  a  night,  though,  I  '11 
say  that." 

"  Sing  something,  Artie." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do  —  drive 
'84 


ARTIE 

the  moon  in  ?  How  did  you  ever  come 
to  think  I  was  a  singer  ?  That's  two  or 
three  times  you've  spiung  that  on  me. 
Somebody  must  'a'  been  stringin'  you." 

"Why,  the  night  we  walked  home 
from  Turner  Hall  you  sang  something 
awfully  pretty.  What  was  it  ?" 

"  Well,  let  it  go  at  that.  Any  singin' 
I  ever  done  was  a  horrible  bluff,  I  '11  tell 
you  those." 

"  Oh,  you  contrary  thing  !  You  can 
sing  if  you  try  to." 

"  I  take  no  chances,  Mame.  If  I  'd 
ever  spring  one  o'  them  bum  notes  you'd 
gi' rne  the  horse  laugh  and  then  there 'd 
be  trouble." 

Mamie  laughed  and  said :  "  What  a 
boy  you  are  !  You  never  do  anything  I 
want  you  to." 

"Come  off!   I'll   tell    you    right    now 

that  when  I  kick  on  singin'  I'm  doin'  you 

the    greatest    favor    in    the  world.      You 

never  heard  me  sing.     I  guess  you're  a 

185 


ARTIE 

little  mixed  in  your  dates.  It  must  a' 
been  somebody  else  you  had  on  your  staff 
that  night." 

"  Why  Artie  Blanchard,  you  mean 
thing  ! " 

"  Hello !  Did  I  land  on  you  that 
time  ? " 

"  I  think  it  was  awfully  mean  of  you  to 
say  that.  I  don 't  ever  ask  you  if  you  've 
been  running  around  with  some  other  girl." 

"  Why  don 't  you  ?  I  'd  tell  you  there 's 
three  or  four  others  that  kind  o'  like  my 
style." 

"  They  must  be  hard  up." 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Maybe  I  ain  't  so  many 
but  I  'm  a  purty  good  thing,  at  that.  I  'm 
fresh  every  hour.  No  family  ought  to  be 
without  me.  When  you  lose  me  you  lose 
a  puddin',  and  do  n  't  you  overlook  it." 

In   answer,. Mamie  picked   up   some  of 
the  small  pebbles  and  threw  them  at  him. 
He  held  his  cap  over  his   face  and   laugh 
ingly  begged  of  her  to  stop. 
1 86 


ARTIE 

«  Will  you  be  good  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Sure  thing.  But  do  n  't  be  so  rough 
with  your  man." 

"  My  man !  "  Mamie  tilted  her  head 
back,  looked  up  at  the  moon  and  shrieked 
with  laughter. 

Artie  was  always  vastly  pleased  to  have 
Mamie  understand  his  bantering  way.  He 
had  often  wondered  if  they  would  ever 
come  to  the  habit  of  taking  each  other 
seriously.  Could  married  people  keep  up 
the  joke  ? 

"  I  seem  to  be  makin'  a  horrible  hit 
with  you  to-night,"  he  remarked,  as  Ma 
mie  slowly  recovered  from  the  attack. 

Mamie  looked  at  him  seriously  for  a 
moment  and  again  broke  into  laughter. 

"  What's  the  joke  ?  "  demanded  Artie. 
"Put  me  next  so  I  can  get  in  on  the  laugh." 

"  Oh,  nothing.  Only  you  said  that  so 
funny." 

"  Funny  ?     That  was  on  the  level." 

At  this  moment  Artie  had  an  inspira- 
187 


ARTIE 

tion.       The     conversation     was    headed, 
right.     Why  not  steer  it  straight  ahead  ? 

u  Of  course,"  he  continued,  "  I  was 
kind  o'  kiddin'  when  I  said  that,  but  when 
it  comes  right  down  to  cases  it  was  n  't  so 
much  of  a  kid  after  all." 

Mamie  laughed  a  little,  but  it  was  a 
forced  laugh.  She  had  suddenly  become 
interested  in  a  pebble  which  she  was  rolling 
under  the  toe  of  her  shoe. 

"I  do  n  't  mean  more  'n  half  I  say," 
said  Artie,  tightening  his  fists  with  resolu 
tion  and  still  looking  out  at  the  illumin 
ated  lake,  "but  on  the  dead,  Mame,  I  ain't 
as  foolish  sometimes  as  I  am  others.  That 
talk  about  there  bein'  any  other  girl  was 
all  guff." 

"  Pshaw,  I  knew  that." 

"  Gee,  you  know  you  've  got  me  right, 
do  n't  you?  And  I  guess  you  have,  too. 
That  ain't  no  lie.  Say,  Mame,  what  do 
you  think  ?  Miller  was  roastin'  me  the 
other  day.  He  said  I  was  slow," 
iSS 


ARTIE 

"Slow  —  howi  " 

"About  doin'  the  nervy  thing  —  comin' 
out  and  sayin'  to  you,  '  Here,  let  's  fix 
it  up.' " 

"Fix  what  up?" 

"  Oh,  you  do  n  't  know,  do  you  ?  You 
ain  't  got  no  notion  at  all  of  what  I  'm 
gettin'  at,  have  you  ?  That 's  too  bad 
about  you." 

Mamie  began  to  laugh  and  then  she 
checked  herself,  for  she  observed  that 
Artie  was  frowning. 

"  Of  course,"  said  she,  "  I  suppose  you 
mean  —  that  we " 

"  All  I  mean  is,  what 's  the  matter  of 
gettin'  it  settled  that  it 's  goin'  to  be  a 
case  of  marry  ? " 

There!  When  he  said  this  it  seemed 
to  him  that  his  voice  went  further  and 
further  away  from  him,  as  if  some  one 
else  were  speaking  the  words. 

Mamie  was  smiling  quietly  and  turning 
her  hat  over  and  over. 
189 


ARTIE 

"  I  guess  that  did  n  't  scare  you  so  much 
after  all, "  said  Artie,  who  at  that  mo 
ment  felt  that  his  whole  existence  had 
stepped  out  from  under  a  burden. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  as  she  continued  to 
fuss  with  the  hat.  "  Scare  me  ?  " 

"  How  about  it  bein'  up  to  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  it's  all  right,  I  guess."  She 
spoke  with  a  frightened  attempt  to  be 
careless. 

"This  is  one  of  them  cases  where  all 
guessin  's  barred." 

"  Well,  you  might  know  it 's  all  right." 

"  It 's  a  go  then. " 

He  said  this  rather  solemnly.  There 
was  a  pause,  and  then  he  continued  with 
some  embarrassment :  "  I  '11  tell  you, 
Mame,  it  seemed  to  me  we  ought  to  have 
it  through  with.  I  did  n't  want  to  keep 
you  guessin'  whether  I  wanted  to  stick. 
Do  n't  you  think  it  was  the  wise  move — 
huh  ?  " 

"It's  all  right  —  yes." 
190 


ARTIE 

"  I  was  goin'  to  spring  it  on  you  sooner, 
but  I  ain  't  never  got  the  nerve  to  talk 
much  about  things  like  that.  It  ain't  like 
askin'  a  girl  to  go  to  a  show,  is  it  ?  " 

"  Not  exactly,"  and  then  both  of  them 
laughed,  in  a  relieved  way. 

"  Do  n't  you  think  you  'd  better  put 
your  mother  on  to  it  ? "  asked  Artie. 

"  I  do  n't  know.      Would  you  ?  " 

"  Sure.  I  guess  she  won't  make  no 
holler." 

Mamie  laughed  again.  "  That 's  a  good 
one  on  you,"  she  said. 

"What  is?" 

"  She  wanted  to  know  the  other  day  if 
you  'd  asked  me  yet." 

"  Who,  the  old  girl  ?  Well,  what  do 
you  think  of  that  ?  Everybody 's  on  to 
us,  Mame." 

"  I  do  n't  care." 

"  Care  ?     They  can  bill  the  town  with 
it  if  they  want  to.      Come  on;  let's  take 
another  whirl  through  the  park." 
191 


ARTIE 

As  they  walked  over  to  the  bicycles 
Artie  laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  much 
as  one  man  might  have  put  his  hand  on 
the  shoulder  of  another  man.  His  voice 
trembled  with  what  he  pretended  was 
laughter  as  he  said  :  "  Mrs.  Blanchard, 
you  're  the  best  o'  the  lot.  How  's  the 
lamp  workin'  ?  Here,  I  '11  turn  it  up  a 
little." 

Perhaps  he  would  have  kissed  her,  as  he 
quakingly  felt  that  he  should  have  done, 
had  they  not  been  standing  in  the  moon 
light.  Yet  he  did  not  know  that  he  was  in 
the  temper  for  love-making.  He  was 
simply  rilled  with  a  large  wonder  that  he 
had  succeeded  beyond  his  deserts  and  that 
this  one  best  creature  of  all  time  was  satis 
fied  with  him. 

They  quickly  mounted  the  wheels  and 
moved  northward.  The  darting  specks  of 
fire  were  still  abroad,  but  there  was  no 
sound  except  the  soft  rasp  of  the  turn 
ing  wheels.  Artie,  pumping  leisurely  and 
192 


ARTIE 

watching  the  lighted  patch  of  roadway 
fleeing  before  his  wheel,  suddenly  began  to 
sing  about  "  Marguerite."  He  was  sing 
ing  absent-mindedly  and  merely  to  keep 
time  with  his  thoughts,  but  Mamie  heard 
him  and  swung  her  wheel  so  as  to  ride  up 
close  beside  him. 

"  I  thought  you  did  n  't  sing,'*  said  she, 
laughing. 

"Oh,  well,"  said  Artie,  grinning.  "You 
know  there  are  times  —  there  are  times  ' 


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amilton. 

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them  all — Hard  Luck — these  reminiscences  of  the  Ex- 
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A  LITTLE  BOOK  of 
TRIBUNE  VERSE 

By  EUGENE  FIELD 

Compiled  and  edited  by  JOSEPH  G.  BROWN,  formerly 
city  editor  of  the  Denver  Tribune,  and  an  intimate  f  rien<i 
and  associate  of  the  poet  during  the  several  years  in 
which  he  was  on  the  staff  of  that  paper. 

This  volume  resurrects  a  literary  treasure  which  has 
been  buried  for  many  years  in  the  forgotten  files  of  a 
newspaper,  and  it  is,  as  nearly  as  it  has  been  possible  to 
make,  an  absolutely  complete  collection  of  the  hitherto 
unpublished  poems  of  the  gifted  author. 

These  poems  are  the  early  products  of  Field's  genius. 
They  breathe  the  spirit  of  Western  life  of  twenty  years 
ago.  The  reckless  cowboy,  the  bucking  broncho,  the 
hardy  miner,  the  English  tenderfoot,  the  coquettish 
belle,  and  all  the  foibles  and  extravagances  of  Western 
social  life,  are  depicted  with  a  naivete  and  satire,  tem 
pered  with  sympathy  and  pathos,  which  no  other  writer 
could  imitate. 

The  book  contains  nearly  three  hundred  pages,  in 
cluding  an  interesting  and  valuable  introduction  by  the 
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For  rattling  good  stories  of  love,  intrigue,  adventure, 
plots  and  counter  plots,  we  know  of  nothing  better,  and 
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IN  THE  NAME  OF  A  WOMAN 

With  illustrations  by  D.  MURRAY  SMITH. 

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